Long Live
by BlackWiltedRose
Summary: He will believe her. He owed her that much. Even if it means going against Queen and country. If she leaves, he will have nothing left to lose. So he will follow her. He will prove her right and if it is the very last thing that he does upon this earth...then so be it. Sequel to Eyes of Faith!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Well for those of you who don't know, this is the sequel to my first story Eyes of Faith. I do suggest reading that before you read this. That sets up the foundation for everything that I have planned for this story. However, without further delay, here is Long Live…enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter One**

Time passed and things changed. Four years to be exact and many...many changes.

Some good.

Others, not so good.

Yet they changed none the less. It was the way of life.

However, every so often you stumble upon those rare circumstances that almost seem to thwart the hands of time. They are ties that bind so deep, so pure that not even fate can touch them.

The love shared between Tristan and Azalea was one of those circumstances. All around them things altered and yet they still held tight to the same core foundation of truth and trust that had originally bonded them together. They remained the same...

The world did not.

Arthurs dream had finally come to pass. It took three years of great trial, but Camelot rose from the base of ruin and became one of the most successful and flourishing kingdoms on the continent. The rest of the world was falling in to darkness after the ransacking of Rome. All knowledge and progress was demolished and the people were reverting back to the old ways. The stone highways crumbled, waterways fell and nobody had the knowledge to fix them. Disease and famine spread like wildfires, engulfing a vast majority of the population. Yet Camelot was immune to it all.

The first year of Arthurs rein was not one of peace and joy. It was a time of hardship, rebellion and rebuilding. The land of Britain was in ruin. All the farms and villages had been burned to the ground by the Saxon army. The winter was brutal and hit them harder than what had been expected. Unable to grow crops, the citizens were forced to rely solely on the skills of the hunters. Arthur grew weary as his people grew thin and sickly. The King decided to halt the pilgrimage north and to remain at Hadrian's Wall once more until spring had arrived. At least there they had shelter. They spent this time gathering what supplies they could and then headed north in the warmer months.

The British rebels were now joined with the peasants from the wall and they worked together to build the foundation of the new city. First starting with small hovels in which each family lived. They were rounded tents made of wood and animal skin. During this time the men built the granary and those with farming experience planted the fields. Gong pits were dug to burry both human and animal feces, which Arthur found more reasonable than tossing it in to the river and continuing to contaminate the water supply. This new development greatly improved the spread of disease. Once the food rations were no longer dwindling, the peasants were far more willing to work hard and life began to improve.

Rock from the old fortress of Carduel was used to build the beginnings of the new castle. It took every able bodied hand to fortify the structure and in the end, it was well worth every ounce of sweat that went in to it. Two years after their pilgrimage north and Camelot rose high off the mountainside, overlooking the sea. It was a grand sight to behold. As the four remaining knights stood beside their new and future King, they knew it...

Arthur had done it.

For another year the four knights and their women, stayed within the confinements of the castle. They were each given a chamber and lived as royalty would. Arthur would have it no less. However, as time wore on the men began to grow restless to move forth with their lives. Each Sarmatian took a vastly different path.

Bors retired from his duty as a knight of the round table and was given a large territory to govern about four days ride from Camelot. There he lived in a moderate sized estate with Vanora and his now twelve children. A few adventurous men and women journeyed forth with him and so the town of Nottingham was established.

Gawain retired from active duty as well; however he remained at the castle. He was given the new rank of head of the tower guard and superior master swordsman. However, Gawain's favorite duty was training the young boys who left their families at the age ten to stay in the barracks and join the ranks of knighthood when they were old enough or skilled enough to pass the trials.

To the surprise of all, Galahad was the only Sarmatian who remained by Arthurs side as an active knight. He would continue to sit at Arthurs right hand at that round wooden table for many years to come. The new recruits looked up to him as a hero of legend and he was revered wherever he would go.

City life did not suit Tristan well and after a year, the walls were beginning to suffocate him. He was usually spotted down by the shores of the sea or walking about the vast open fields with Azalea by his side. He hardly went within the city walls except to oversee Lucan's training or at Arthur's request. His new job was to train the new falcons and their owners to rid the city of its rat infestation. Tristan did this willingly and then returned to his reclusive nature once more. The citizens of Camelot feared him, just as they had always done at Hadrian's Wall. The scout hardly noticed. Nor did he care.

When Tristan first resigned from active duty as a knight, Arthur had also offered him a large space of land to lord over as well. However, after a calm discussion with Azalea, he declined this offer. Tristan did not wish to have power of any sort. He simply wished to be left in peace. So the moment that Bors departed from Camelot, Tristan took Azalea and moved to a small space of land in the forest within the borders of Nottingham. They were far enough away for peace and close enough to see friends when they desired company. Lucan was now ten years of age and stayed behind to train for knighthood. He wished to follow in his new father's footsteps.

It was now four years after the battle of Badon Hill and Tristan walked slowly forward through the forest near his home. Each footprint that he made left an indentation in the moist dirt path that he had molded over the constant ware of time. Dawn remained his favorite time of day. Tristan still rose before the sunrise out of habit and took to walking the forest near their home. Azalea would sometimes accompany him and yet she more than often let him be. She knew that he treasured that time alone. It was very obvious on the rare occasion that Tristan overslept or had business to tend and his routine was disrupted. He would remain in a foul mood for the rest of the evening.

It was a beautiful morning to be outside. The earth gave off the rich scent that only lingers after a night of summer rain. The soft call of the birdsong began to sing through the silence and soon the entire world would rise with the sun. Tristan neared the cottage where he lived and stopped when he stood outside the kitchen window. He could see his beautiful woman kneeling down before a pot with his breakfast, which boiled furiously over the fire. Azalea swore loudly when a hot cinder flew up and burned her arm.

Tristan laughed lightly to himself as he walked in to the room. Azalea turned and looked up at him from her position on the floor. Her eyes sparkled with adoration at the site of him. Four years had not dimmed her beauty. Each moment that Tristan looked upon her, he saw something different, something new. Like the small laugh lines near the corner of her eyes. Proof not of her age, but of the overwhelming joy that she showed freely to the world. It did nothing but remind him of her smile that he loved so much. The one that Azalea now saved almost specifically for Tristan.

"How was your morning?" The woman asked as she slid her arms around his waist and clasped her hands tightly behind his lower back. Azalea leaned her chest back so that she could look Tristan in the face.

"Better now," Tristan answered as he leaned forward and his lips gently met her own. His tongue slowly traced the contours of her lower lip. Tristan could feel her shiver slightly when their skin collided.

Azalea sighed in to his mouth. She had yet to grow tired of the feeling that she had when she was in his arms. It was true that she had known no other lover besides Tristan to compare to and yet never once had her mind ever strayed. Tristan who had indeed known many other women, now knew what he loved best of all and he needed to search no farther than her eyes.

Against all odds, they were happy and still madly in love.

Not the dizzy, head over heels, irrational love that a couple has when they first meet. It was a deep, secure and sensual sort of passion that digs its roots firmly in to the center of their hearts. It only comes with the passing of time and the strength that it takes to survive many difficult trials together.

Tristan swept Azaleas legs up in to his arms and began to carry her down the corridor to their bedchamber. "Oh Shaheen, your food shall burn!" Azalea argued as she stretched out her arms towards the fire and yet she knew that there was no use fighting against Tristan once he made up his mind.

Once within, he placed her gently down upon the fur comforters and climbed on to the bed so that his body hovered over hers. Tristan's right hand bushed the hair away from her neck and he replaced it with his mouth. He lingered their just long enough to leave his mark before he ran his hand down her shoulder, pushing the cloth of her shift down to reveal the soft skin of her bare shoulders. He groaned when she grinded her hips fiercely against his own. Tristan knew that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. "It has been far too long since we have done this right,'' he whispered in to her ear.

"You just took me last night in the garden," Azalea laughed and yet she secretly loved that his desire for her still burned so strong within him.

"Aye, but not properly." Tristan could feel her body tense slightly and he held her gaze to his. She looked away only for a moment before he pulled her back. "Do not be afraid."

Azalea didn't say a word, she just nodded her head. As he entered her, a mix of pleasure and pain seemed to swirl about within her. Her mind drifted away to three years prior and to one of the worst moments that they would ever have to overcome together.

* * *

_Bile rose in her throat as Azalea looked back at the bloody footprints that trailed behind her upon the cold stone floor of the corridor. Only a few more steps...She was almost to Gawain's room. She knew that he would help her. He had to, there was no one else. The blood continued to slither down her legs like hideous snakes pouring forth from her body and the pain..._

_Oh the pain._

_It gnawed away at her senses, leaving her dizzy and nauseous. Azalea pounded once upon the wooden door and only once. Her body was off balance and she swayed upon her feet. She didn't even notice the door open until a voice spoke. "Azalea?" _

_"The baby...something is the matter." and then she fell. _

_Gawain had caught her quickly before she hit the ground. He gently pulled Azalea over and laid her down upon the floor with her back propped up against the bottom of his bed. The knight called for help and a maid soon appeared in the doorway. She looked startled for a moment but became aware by Gawain's command. "Stay with this woman. Make sure that she stays conscience. I must find help."_

_Before another question could be asked, Gawain took flight. He ran to the east wing of the grounds where the royal infirmary lies and found Brene. He sent her quickly to aid Azalea while he went in search of Tristan. Gawain thanked the Gods when he came upon the scout leaving the fletchers shop at the corner of the bend near the Queens chambers. _

_It took only two words of explanation before Tristan was sprinting off as fast as he had ever run before. He halted to a quick stop at Gawain's door when he looked within and saw Azalea sprawled out on the floor in a pool of her own blood. Her tan gown died red. The only sign of life was the rise and fall of her chest. Brene stood over her and had a brown bundle wrapped in her arms. Her eyes were bloodshot and Tristan knew that she was holding back tears. The healer walked slowly over towards Tristan. She didn't speak; she just placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and then left the room. The scout hadn't noticed the boy Lucan who was now standing by his side. He had been training when he saw his father run by and by the look on Tristan's face he had known that something was terribly wrong._

_Tristan was knocked back in to motion when a chocking sob escaped from Azalea's lips. It was the most pitiful noise that he had ever heard. Like the sound of a dying animal. He was by her side in a moment and had her wrapped up tightly in his arms. Nobody spoke for quite a while. Finally she spoke._

_"What did I do wrong?" Azalea sobbed in to his shoulder. Gripping his shirt as it balled in to her fists._

_"You did nothing wrong." He tried to soothe her as he rubbed the sweat soaked hair back from her head._

_"I lost our child," she whimpered. The sound nearly ripped his heart in half. Tristan thought thoroughly before he spoke. He knew now that he had to choose his words cautiously. That was when he looked up and saw his new son in the doorway. _

_"We still have Lucan," he said. "Perhaps that is all that we are meant to have."_

_Azalea trembled for a moment and then wiped her eyes as she looked over at the now eleven year old boy standing in the doorway. Lucan pushed off of the doorframe and walked forward. He knelt down beside his mother and took her left hand from Tristan's shoulder. He held it in his own. "I will make you proud. I promise." _

_Azalea pulled away from Tristan's body and turned to kiss Lucan on the cheek. "You already do."_

* * *

Three years have passed by since that day and they had yet to try again for a child. The couple continued to make love and yet Tristan did his best to pull out of her before he finished. They knew that this plan was not foolproof and yet it was the only plan that they had. He would not risk putting her through that torment again. Tristan always felt satisfied at her touch and yet it never felt fully complete. She was his woman. He wanted all of her and fear would no longer prevent him from taking what was his.

So he claimed her once again as his own that day. The release gave him more pleasure than any time before that ever had. Because they had triumphed. They had overcame devastation once more and they lived, when the weight of all that they have lost could have killed them.

They lay quietly within each other's arms and Azalea sighed deeply in content. She could feel the movement that signified life flowing through his veins beneath her. For years she had felt torn between being whole and being broken. Together they had never felt happier and yet there was that small fear that lingered in the back of their minds. This fear of loss had stopped them fully from giving themselves to each other.

The love they made that morning broke all barriers. They were whole again.

Tristan rose first and went in to the kitchen to put out the fire in the hearth. He laughed when he spotted the charred remains of his breakfast. Knowing that Azalea had worked hard on the stew, he grabbed his bow and made for the door. He would bring back a nice meal for dinner to surprise her. However, the door flew open before he could exit. It almost smacked him in the face.

"Where is she?" Vanora burst through the door and looked around the kitchen. When she didn't spot Azalea she stalked past Tristan and down the hallway to their bedchamber.

Vanora pushed the door open with her hand and walked inside. Azalea stood naked beside the bed and covered herself quickly when she realized that it was not Tristan who entered. "There you are! We have business to tend to. Get dressed girl!" Vanora picked up the closest garment to her and tossed it to Azalea.

Tristan was standing in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. "You do not even knock?"

"Oh do keep quiet Tristan; this is a matter for women. What are you even still doing here?" Azalea choked and coughed at the same time when she attempted not to laugh at Tristan's affronted expression.

Azalea quickly pulled on a skirt and the blouse that Vanora had handed her. "What is this urgent business?"

"I have finally decided to accept my lover's proposal of marriage. We have a wedding to plan and since you are the closest friend available, I have chosen you to assist me!" Tristan rolled his eyes and took this as a cue for him to leave.

Azalea smiled. "Well it is about time. You have only been together going on what? Seventeen years."

"Eighteen to be exact...but who's counting." Vanora shrugged her shoulders.

The scout huffed loudly from the doorway. "Nobody. We stopped caring years ago." Tristan muttered.

Vanora turned and glared at the man. "So you are still here, are you?"

"It is my cottage, is it not? I believe I shall go wherever I so choose wench."

Azalea shook her head as she walked over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Do be nice dear."

Tristan just grumbled something incoherent about being outnumbered and then turned to leave. Vanora and Azalea turned to look at each other and then laughed loudly. "Well I see he has not altered much."

"Aye, he definitely has not. Then again...he would not still be Tristan if he had." Azalea walked over and threw her arms around the shoulders of her redheaded friend. "Now what was this that you spoke of about a wedding?"

* * *

**Soooo….what did you think? I would love to hear everyone's opinion on the new story. I am so very excited for this! I can't promise how quickly the updates for this will come. I am writing it as I go. Where the other story was already pre-written. I don't want to rush and to ruin what could be one of my favorite stories that I have ever written. But I do promise that I will hurry!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

A soft rain began to fall as Tristan walked back towards their home. His dark brown hair, now spotted with a few strands of grey, stuck to his forehead and the sides of his cheeks. He had the carcasses of two rabbits hanging over his right shoulder and he carried his hunting bow in his left hand. Tristan was now thirty-seven years old and he felt much older than he looked. Never had he imagined that his life would turn out in such a way. It was not unpleasant, not at all…just different.

He had always imagined that he would die in battle. Tristan never saw a life of solitude in his future and yet it had found him anyway. Love had changed everything.

Tristan had been a slave for the majority of his time upon the earth. He served. That was his lot in life. No desire of Tristan's had ever mattered until now. Six years ago when freedom had found him, his first instinct had been to run. He would travel back to his homeland. Find his tribe. Live a quiet existence...a lonely existence.

Tristan had never realized how truly alone he actually was until he had been given a companion. Azalea had appeared nearly out of thin air and she had never left his side since. They would argue, they would storm off in a fit of rage and then they would always find their way back to the other in the end. It was the law of attraction.

It had taken almost two years of being near Azalea, of getting to know her, for Tristan to fall so hard that it broke every shield that he had ever placed up around his soul. He did not fear death. He feared love.

Love is unstable. It is all consuming. When you fall in love it is as if every other part of your world dims in comparison. You cannot see past the haze that covers everything but the object of your desire. Men have thrown away their homes, their future, their jobs and their lives for love. Up until six years ago when he had first met Azalea, Tristan had never believed that he was capable of such reckless forfeit of his entire being. He was wrong.

Life together as a couple suited him better than expected. Tristan was a loyal and admirable companion. It was as if every fault that Azalea could claim, only seemed to serve as a balance and compliment to his own.

Tristan stopped outside of where he lived and looked around. They made their dwelling in a small three bedroom cabin of timber that he had cut from the forest. Arthur had originally desired to have the builders from the castle design Tristan a beautiful estate, but the scout had refused. He wanted nothing that wasn't built by his own hands.

Tristan crafted a small kitchen with a large fireplace near the center and shelves for Azalea to store her herbs. Attached to the kitchen was a modest sitting room for when guests would arrive. However, knowing Tristan's character, that was not often. If you walked down a small corridor you would come upon three doors. The first one on the left was the guest room. The one at the end of the corridor was the master chamber and the one to the right was Lucan's room and what would have been his newborn child's as well if things had went as planned.

Tristan shook his head at the thought and walked around to the back of the cabin. There sat a small workshop where he spent most of his time these days and beside that was the barn where he boarded his horse, two cows and his hawks. In between the backdoor of the cabin and his workshop Tristan spotted Azalea in the garden. She was pruning the plants with a look of serous concentration on her face.

Tristan walked quietly up behind her and placed his hand gently on her right shoulder. Azalea jumped in fear and turned to look up at who had approached with such stealth. "You startled me."

Tristan just shrugged his shoulders. Azalea stood up and dusted the dirt from her apron. Her hands brushed the cloth with such force that he knew that something was trying on her nerves. Azalea made a move to open the door and enter the house but Tristan pushed it back shut. "What is the matter?"

"Why would you think that something is the matter with me?" Azalea asked, trying to cover her anger with impassiveness. It did not work.

"I know you."

Azalea just glared at him and finally sighed. Her shoulders slumped forward. Tristan was no who her anger was geared towards and it would be unfair to take it out on him. "It is nothing of importance. It shall pass."

"You avoid the subject," Tristan pointed out.

"Aye, I do. As I have said, it is of no importance. So it would be unnecessary to trouble you."

"I shall decide that. Now speak up." He looped her arm through his and the couple began walking down the pathway that led to the main street in Nottingham.

"Tis the wedding that troubles me," Azalea sighed deeply, she leaned her head upon his shoulder as they walked. Tristan looked down at the top of her hair for a moment as it fell in soft flowing locks upon his neck. Then he focused his gaze ahead.

"What of it is troublesome?" He asked, wondering if she was beginning to re-think their decision to not marry.

"It shall be held in Camelot. I hate to not be present. I do dearly miss our friends. However, I told Vanora that we would not make it. I know how you despise the city."

"You wish to go?" Tristan asked, even though he could already read the answer in her behavior.

"It is of no importance, do not worry. I will congratulate them on their return to Nottingham."

"We shall go," Tristan said in response to her unspoken desire.

"But what of you?" Azalea asked as she brushed her fingers down the side of his cheek. The coarse hair of his beard tickled her fingertips.

"What of me? I am fine woman, worry after yourself."

Azalea laughed in to his shoulder. "Vanora was correct; you have not changed a bit."

"Do you wish for me to change?"

"I do not," Azalea answered.

"That is well. For I have too long been set in my ways."

Tristan and Azalea continued walking for another mile until they breeched the forest and found themselves at the end of Main Street. Stretched out before them was a long dirt road with many shops flanking its sides. They were modestly built stone buildings with thatched roofs. Open air windows were set upon their face, covered by curtains to block the light and to give privacy to those within. A great many people bustled about the street, going on with their daily lives. They were completely oblivious to the presence of the new arrivals.

Azalea looked about her and smiled. She adored her small cottage in the woods and the constant alone time that she was permitted to have with Tristan. It was refreshing after years of their time being dictated by others. However, every so often it was nice to be around people once more. To hear the laughter of small children and the gossip about the local townsfolk. It was a refreshing change of pace. Especially since she no longer had Lucan around to keep her company while Tristan was busy at work.

Her smile only brightened when Azalea thought about Tristan and the boy. Years ago during the winter that the citizens passed at Hadrian's Wall, Brene had given Tristan and Azalea what had been the small infirmary to live in as their home for the since they now had Lucan to care for. The first few months of the boy being a part of their 'family' was quite awkward and tense. Tristan had no experience with children whatsoever. He would stare at the child more often than speak and yet Lucan seemed to hardly mind. However, Azalea had never seen the boy look happier. The relationship between the boy and the scout changed one day when Tristan was out cutting wood for the fire.

* * *

_It was early morning and the sun shown clear in the winter sky. No clouds were in site. They were running low on firewood and Tristan was out in the forest cutting branches to dry by the fire. He imagined that spring would come soon but he would rather be prepared in case of a blizzard late in the season. He was sawing away at a small log when his hand slipped and he dropped it. Before Tristan could grab the tool, a small hand reached out and picked it up off the ground. Tristan was startled that he had not heard the boy approach._

_"Here," Lucan said as he handed the saw back to the scout. _

_Tristan silently took the tool from the child's hand and began to saw away at the log once more. It was wet and kept slipping from his grasp. Tristan was growing increasingly irritated as Lucan continued to stand there in silence and watch. Finally the boy sighed and approached the man. Lucan took the log from Tristan. "What are you doing?" The scout yelled, he was clearly annoyed. _

_Lucan just smirked and refused to answer. He propped the small log up against a tree stump, took out a small axe from his belt and swung hard. To Tristan's amazement, the log split clean down the center. Lucan picked up the two pieces and handed them to Tristan, a smug grin on his face. "I was raised among the trees."_

_Tristan did not speak; he just nodded his head at the boy. However, the look that he gave Lucan at that moment showed that he was impressed. "Gather those over there." Tristan pointed to a small pile of logs that he had already cut. They began walking back towards their lodgings. "You have skills with an axe?" Tristan asked and Lucan looked up at the scout in surprise. _

_He was shocked that the Tristan was making conversation. "Some. My father was teaching me before he died."_

_"And the bow?" _

_"None," Lucan said softly. _

_"You shall learn. I will teach you."_

_Lucan stopped for a moment in shock, but then ran to catch up with Tristan who had not slowed his pace. The boy reached out and grabbed the sleeve of Tristan's tunic which caused the man to look down. "It would truly be an honor to learn from you."_

* * *

Azalea was knocked from her daydreams when she realized that Tristan was silently staring at her. She smiled and continued walking forward. "While we are in town let's stop and call upon Bor's and Vanora. I would love to inform her that we will be able to make it to the wedding after all."

She could tell by the look on his face that Tristan was not thrilled by this idea, but he followed her anyway. However, when they arrived at the estate of his friend they were only welcomed by the lovely face of Vanora's oldest daughter Three. She was of the age of thirteen, with strawberry blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes. "Mother and Father are out of town on business. Would you care to come in? It has been quite some time since you have called upon us."

"That is sweet; however we were actually just stopping by for a moment. Would you be so kind as to tell your parents that we shall be making it to the wedding afterall?"

"I will tell them the moment that they arrive home."

They said their goodbyes and Azalea followed Tristan over towards the carriers post. He wished to send word to Arthur immediately and request the use of the cabin down by the bay. It was a beautiful home on the shore of the water and away from the commotion of the city. Arthur and Guinevere allowed the couple the use of the residence whenever they were visiting Camelot. The King would have preferred his friend to stay within the castle to ensure his comfort and close proximity. However, Arthur knew Tristan's temperament better than most and respected his wishes.

It was not that somewhere inside of Tristan he did not miss his brothers. He just knew that nothing lasted forever and that it was best to create a life apart from everyone besides Azalea. It was not healthy to rely so strongly on the company of any man. The only life that you have any control over is your own and even those who you think would never leave, could leave at any moment.

They stopped to collect only a few more small items from various shops before they began their walk back towards their home in the forest. They traveled the first mile in silence; both had many thoughts running about in their mind and did not feel capable of being burdened by the thoughts of others. A lot of what made their relationship so successful was their ability to respect the others boundaries. They each knew that there was a time to speak and a time to be silent, a time to be together and time spent apart.

It was Tristan who broke the silence first. They were still a good mile from their home and he watched Azalea as she stopped to pick wildflowers by the side of the path. "What is your view on destiny," he asked.

"I do not believe in destiny. I believe in only fate and free-will," She said calmly.

"Explain," Tristan encouraged. He leaned his back to rest against a tree and folded his arms across his chest. "Is not destiny and fate one in the same?"

Azalea twisted around and then sat cross-legged at his feet. She shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked up at Tristan. "Most believe so, however I do not. In my mind destiny means that something was destined or pre-planned to happen. Such as a story with the ending already decided. I believe that fate means that something has only the predisposition to take place or to be drawn towards something else. I do not believe that there is some great plan already written about the course of our lives. That you and I were _destined_ to be together. However, I do believe that two people who were crafted such as ourselves were very likely to fall in love if we were to ever cross paths. Fate. But it was our free-will that gave us the option to walk down that road. There is no free-will when destiny is involved."

"You think very deep on such subjects," Tristan said as he examined his woman.

"Do you not?" Azalea asked as she took his outstretched hand and stood to her feet. She turned around and reached down to pick up the small bouquet of flowers that she had collected for the house. Azalea held them up to her nose and smiled as she took in their intoxicating scent.

"I think only on what is taking place before me. The future is of no concern of mine, until it becomes the present." Tristan continued walking and kicked a small stone that was sitting in the road before them.

"Then why did you ask me such a question?" Azalea had a strong curiosity to know what was going through his mind at that moment.

"I was curious."

"You are a silly man. You will not tell me what brought on such curiosity?"

"I will not." Tristan's face was set in stone and Azalea knew that there would be no swaying him. This irritated her slightly.

"Then I shall leave you to your mystery. But do not ask me to share anymore of my insight if you are not willing to do the same." Azalea began to walk away quickly. However, before she could take even a few steps his arm was twirled around her waist.

"You are angry with me," He spoke in to her ear. She shooed him off of her.

"I am not," Azalea laughed at the disbelief that crossed his face. "And even if I were, it never lasts for long. You know far too many ways to win me over."

They continued walking and a comfortable silence rested upon them once more. The true reason why Tristan had asked Azalea about her view on destiny was that lately he had been doing a great deal of thinking about his life. It often felt as if many times the circumstances that he found himself in were out of his control. Tristan wondered if he truly had any choice in the matter or if what was happening was all just a part of some master plan.

Tristan did not believe in a God. He knew that Azalea had faith in some higher power, however she also believed in free-will. He used to. It was hard for Tristan to accept that he must give up control. Yet, lately he wasn't so sure. He thought about his relationship with the incredible woman walking by his side and thought back over their life together. If Azalea had not been so forceful at the beginning, Tristan would have walked away from their relationship for good. He would have died upon the battle field like he had imagined that he would.

And yet he was alive.

Was it fate like Azalea spoke of? Were they simply crafted to be more likely to love each other and it only took her choice to seal the deal?

Sometimes it felt like something so much deeper than that. Perhaps he would never know the answer to those questions and yet he could not seem to get the thought to leave his mind. It was not like Tristan to think so in depth about such philosophical questions. He knew that Azalea must have been influencing his behavior.

They finally completed the two mile walk back and they were welcomed with a great surprise. The moment that they rounded the eastern end of the cabin their eyes spotted a large black stallion tied to a post outside of the barn. Tristan recognized the horse almost instantly.

Lucan had come home.

It was in that same moment that a young man walked out of the wooden doors and smiled when he saw them. It had been a year since they had last been in the presence of their son. Within that time he had grown significantly taller. He was almost the height of Tristan now, except far more lean in stature. He had yet to fill out in to the build of a man. His hair fell in long blonde waves upon his shoulder. This served to remind Tristan only of Gawain's wild mane. Lucan placed his saddle down and then walked over to the couple who had given him life in every way except birth.

The boy embraced Azalea tightly, lifting her off the ground as he hugged her. "My dear mother, it is such a joy to see your lovely face once more." Long ago Lucan had begun calling Azalea mother and it softened her heart, just as it had done with Tregor. At times Azalea still thought back upon that lost child and felt pain. However, she was healing with each year that she was able to provide a better life for Lucan.

Lucan sat Azalea down upon the ground and turned to Tristan who stood at her side. The boy straightened his shoulders and raised himself up tall. He looked the scout directly in the eyes. They stared at each other for a few moments before Lucan smiled and stretched out his arm to grip Tristan's right shoulder. "It has been too long." Tristan gave a rare grin and reached out to grab Lucan's shoulder as well in greeting. Then they broke apart.

"I hear a good report of your training," Tristan said as he walked in to the barn and began to help the boy unload the rest of his belongings. Azalea had practically skipped in to the house to prepare supper. She was filled with such joy to be once more surrounded by the two most important men in her life.

"It would not have been such a good report were in not for your training," Lucan laughed. "I dominate all others in archery. Although the credit is all yours to be sure."

"You had natural skill."

"I had skill to survive. I did not have skill for battle. The warrior in me was entirely molded by you. For that I am grateful."

Tristan looked up at the boy, his boy, and nodded his head. Then the scout looked back at the house where he could see Azalea through the kitchen window. She was whistling and there was a glow in her cheeks that Tristan had not seen in some time. "Your mother has missed you."

"I have missed you both as well."

Lucan smirked at the knowing look in his father's eyes and then went to join his mother. He left Tristan standing there alone at the door of his barn watching the family that he had never imagined that he would have.

_This is what life should be..._ He thought to himself in a moment of true contentment and then went to join those that he loved.

* * *

**Sorry this took me longer than usual! I just am writing this completely as I go. I know this may have seemed like a filler chapter, but it has a purpose. Everything that I do will lead up to something else in the future. Let me know what you think!**

**Love you all,**

**BWR**


	3. Chapter 3

**WARNING: **_Part of this chapter is rated M. You'll probably be able to guess where it starts, so if you don't like reading graphic scenes I suggest that you skip it. _

* * *

**Chapter Three**

"How long shall you be staying?" Azalea asked with hopeful eyes that were cast upon her son as he sat across the table from her. He was taking a large bite out of a chicken leg that she had recently cooked for him over the fire. His blonde curly locks were tied back from his face. Tristan was out and expected to return soon from business he had to tend to in town.

"Lord Gawain has permitted me to take leave for the time being and return to Camelot with you for the wedding. You are going to the wedding are you not?" Lucan asked.

"Lord Gawain...how amusing that sounds to my ears. I still remember him as simply Gawain." Azalea laughed as she began to collect the dishes when Lucan was finished. "But yes, we are."

"That is good news! Everyone will be thrilled to see you! How did you possibly convince him to come?" Lucan asked as he motioned with his head over towards Tristan who could now be spotted though the window, riding up the road on the back of Suntera.

"I do believe that it was guilt that has persuaded him, not I. Tristan believes that I would be devastated if I were to miss it and you know how he is...he believes that I need to worry more about myself and less about him."

"You do. Father is capable of taking care of himself. Besides, some socializing would do him no harm. He has become too reclusive as of late."

Lucan worried for his father. Tristan had always been a very private man. It was what had made it quite difficult for Lucan to build a strong relationship with the man. However, over the years Tristan had opened up to the child and an impenetrable bond was now built by the love of family. It was true that Lucan idealized Arthur and Gawain. However, he loved and respected no man more than Tristan.

One night many years ago, Azalea had sat the boy down and explained to him about Tristan's lost brother who shared the same name. It was in that moment that Lucan understood the scout's original hesitance to allow himself to care for him.

Azalea looked down at her son. "Dear child, I believe that you are becoming far too wise for your own good."

"Aye, that's what happens when you spend too much time in the company of the King!" Lucan laughed.

"How does he fair?" Azalea asked as she fondly remembered back to a time when he was just Arthur, not King Arthur of Camelot.

"He is well indeed. Truly mother...he is a legend! I have known no better man." Azalea smiled when she saw the way that Lucan's eyes lit up when he spoke of Arthur.

"Yes, he has always been that way I believe."

Lucan stood up from the table, leaned over to quickly kiss Azalea on the cheek and then went out to help Tristan in the stable. She watched him depart from where she stood in the doorway.

Lucan had only been a nine year old boy when she had first taken him in. Five years have passed since that day and she still saw him as that wide eyed child who was desperately in need of love. Now it was clear that he was growing in to a strong young man and she could think of no better men to mold his character than Arthur and the brave and noble knights whom she respected above all others.

Lucan would be attempting the trials of knighthood within the next year and even though he never spoke of it, she knew that somewhere inside of Tristan was stirring an intense pride for all that the boy had accomplished. The scout knew that Dagonet would have been proud as well. Years ago, Tristan would not have wished a life of knighthood to even his worst enemy and yet things have changed. It was a time of great peace. Now knights willingly served to protect those that they cared for. They served out of love, not out of force.

It was a week after Lucan's arrival that a post was sent to the cabin. It was a request from Bors for the family to dine at the Nottingham estate the following evening. Azalea immediately accepted, even though it took Tristan longer to become settled with the decision.

"Too much noise," Tristan complained from his side of the bed. "There are always children running about."

Azalea smiled as she drew circles with her fingers on the outside of his bare thigh. "I thought you to be accustomed to children by now."

"Aye, the innocent raucous of a child can indeed be overlooked. However, that hoard of theirs is a whole new breed of wild beasts. There is no structure...no discipline. A young life must have some resemblance of rules to abide by; a path to follow or it shall become lost."

"You are an excellent father. The path you have laid for Lucan has done him well and yet you forget yourself Shaheen. Think back to before you were my lover. When have either you or I ever followed rules?"

"Never."

"Aye, never. Yet we have turned out just fine. " Azalea shifted her position up and began to trace the thin line that scarred the soft skin of his lower abdomen. When her finger reached the tender skin beneath his belly button he grabbed her hand in his.

Tristan brought it up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "There are moments when I do need proper rest. If you continue to tease my skin in such a way, I fear that neither of us will find sleep this night."

She sat up and turned to stare at him. "Sleep is for the weak."

Azalea leaned back on her heels and was kneeling by his side on the top of the covers. She lifted up her hands and began to slowly slide the thin fabric from her shoulders. Tristan watched her intensely; the new bulge in his breeches clearly expressing what he was not. He watched as her breasts fell loose from the dress, her nipples erect from the cool breeze of the night air that blew in from the eastern window. Without thinking, Tristan reached up and began to tease them with his fingers. Azalea smiled softly down at him. Her eyes closed when he sat up and his tongue took their place; nipping and sucking on the small mound, then moving over to show the other one equal attention. Her hands ran through his dark hair, her breath becoming ragged.

Tristan slid his arm around her waist and skillfully twisted her body so that he was lying above her. His erect manhood pressing hard against her abdomen. Skillfully she released it from its hold and pushed his breeches down past his waist. He continued kissing her for a moment as his fingers slid between her legs. He could feel how excited she was as he explored her. Tristan continued to gaze in to her eyes and suddenly he smiled. She tilted her head and looked at him. "wha...mmm" Azalea could hardly form coherent words.

Tristan stayed silent for a moment, continuing his assault on the most sensitive part of her body. Tristan could feel her tremble beneath him. Her head was tilted back and her eyes closed. "I love watching what I do to you." He whispered in her ear before gently nibbling on her earlobe.

"You are cruel to tease me like this," Azalea hissed out in pleasure. Her chest soon arced up; her breasts brushing slightly against his chest.

"I do need rest," Tristan said as he began to pull away from her.

Azalea grabbed him tightly by the neck; her eyes were fierce and full of desire. Her fingers dug in to his skin. "Don't you dare stop now or you shall find your bed upon the floor!"

Her aggression only seemed to fuel his desire for her as he complied with her demand. His mouth smashed with great force against her own lips that were already soft and swelling from the friction. His tongue battling seductively with hers. Tristan's right hand slid up her thigh and spread her legs further apart. His hips finishing the job as he slammed himself inside of her. A soft whimper escaped her mouth. Tristan could feel the tight grip of her warmth wrapped around him. Five years have passed since the first time that he had learned what it felt like to join with her and it was a feeling that he never grew sick of.

Azalea clawed at the contours of his broad back, leaving red trail marks in their wake. She was now in a world of pure pleasure. Nothing else crossed her mind except for how good Tristan felt inside of her. He began to pant slightly as his rhythm continued to quicken. Tristan leaned forward and buried his head in to her neck with a sigh of satisfaction as he finished.

Azalea hadn't quite reached compete release and yet she was more than satisfied with his performance. Tristan rolled to the side and watched with intrigue as she finished herself off. He saw nothing more erotic than the way her naked body shook with pleasure and the sound of her soft whimper as she reached the height of ecstasy. When Azalea finished, she rolled over and snuggled against his side. Tristan could feel the sticky wetness of the inside of her legs pressed against his hip.

"You do not even need my help, do you?"

"Do not doubt your skill. You please me in far greater capacity than my fingers. Truly you are indispensable to me." Azalea said softly as her hands played with the part of his physical body that pleased her the most.

She knew how sensitive he was there after intercourse and laughed when his whole body twitched. Azalea stopped her torture and reached behind her to pull the covers around their bodies. "You may sleep now."

Tristan rolled on his side and they starred eye to eye in the darkness. "You have long since lost that innocent look in your eyes that I had first fallen in love with."

"That is true...I am no longer innocent. Does this disappoint you?"

"You are still innocent. Just not in my bed. I could never be disappointed." Tristan reached up and brushed the back of his hand down her bare shoulder. "For everything that you have lost, you have gained more in its place. You only grow lovelier to me each moment that I spend with you."

"I once remember a time when you told me to never expect poetic words from you. Now you speak freely of your love for me. I do believe that I am not the only one who has adapted."

She could hear Tristan sigh in the darkness. "I have learned that the words I speak to you in private are for only our ears to hear. There is no need for me to filter my thoughts when I am not under scrutiny."

"Well I am glad that you have opened yourself to me." Azalea kissed her lover once more upon his cheek and then closed her eyes to find rest.

The couple woke in the morning to a tangled mess of bodies and cloth. Tristan fell upon the floor with a loud thump as he attempted to detangle himself. Azalea was clutching her side in laughter at the site of the abnormally graceful scout in a moment of such disarray. She was laughing so hard that tears streamed down her cheeks.

Tristan stood to his feet and dusted himself off. He peered at her through the braids that fell before his eyes. "You find this amusing do you?"

The woman couldn't stop laughing long enough to answer.

"Ahh!" Azalea screamed in surprise when Tristan pulled out the blanket from beneath where she was laying and it rolled her on to the floor as well.

Tristan couldn't see her from where he stood on the other side of the bed. All was completely silent for a moment and he feared that he had hurt her. He made an attempt to move towards her when laughter erupted from her lungs once more. Tristan crawled across the bed and looked down at her. She was laughing naked upon her back, gazing up at him with her bold brown eyes. "I should despise you."

"Yet you love me," Tristan said as he grabbed her slender arms and helped her stand.

It was then that there was a knock on the door. Lucan's voice echoed from the other side and yet he was wise enough not to open it. "Is everything alright? I heard a scream."

"Yes Lucan, everything is fine. Your father was just making a spectacle of us, that is all."

"Again?" the young man asked.

"Again." Azalea answered and Tristan raised an eyebrow at her in silent scrutiny. However, only she would be able to see the amusement that hid behind his golden gaze.

"There is work to be done, so do not take all day," Lucan yelled and then turned with a laugh. He took his leave and walked back down the hallway towards the kitchen.

The day was spent tending to the land. There was more work to be done than Tristan could handle. He was too stubborn to admit it and never hired help. Lucan aided Tristan in fixing any holes in the thatched roof and began to rebuild the fence that Mr. Gringolds cattle had destroyed the month before. Even though it was hard labor, the men enjoyed every moment of it. It had been too long since they had last worked side by side together. There were not many words spoken and yet none needed to be said.

Soon dusk was approaching and the covered wagon was made ready to head to Nottingham to dine with Bors and Vanora as they had promised. It took only half of an hour before they arrived. Darkness hit swiftly and soon only the light of torches lit the way. They parked the wagon at the gate and Lucan jumped down first. Tristan reached up and helped Azalea down. He took her hand in his as her dainty feet gently touched the ground and they walked to the back of the wagon, speaking in a hushed whisper.

The couple was greatly surprised when they attempted to make the turn and almost ran in to Lucan. He was standing very near to Three, who they had recently begun to call Theresa. The young girl's back was pressed up against the wall and Lucan was leaning close to her, he reached up to slowly push the hair behind her right ear.

The moment that the children spotted the adults, Theresa blushed furiously and scurried off as fast as she could towards the house. Lucan merely looked at his parents and shrugged his shoulders with a sly grin. Then he walked off towards the clearing in the field beside their home where Bors was beginning to start the fire.

Tristan looked sideways at his lover. "He spends too much time with Gawain."

Azalea snickered. "Well hope be to the Gods that she is not as fertile as Vanora."

Tristan smirked and shook his head. "You get ahead of yourself, woman."

"Do I? Was Bors not more than a year older than Lucan when Vanora became pregnant with his first daughter?"

The scouts face remained impassive and yet she could see the ripple of his throat as he swallowed hard. "I shall speak with him."

Azalea looped her hand within his arm and they walked towards the fire. "And what shall you say?"

"I will tell him that if he conceives any child within the next three years, I will cut off his legs with my sword."

"And will he listen?"

"No."

Azalea laughed so loudly that she startled some of the children who were playing a game nearby. They were kneeling in a circle, flicking small pebbles and trying to knock other stones out of a circle that they had drawn in to the mud with a stick. Azalea encircled her man with her arms and leaned against his chest. She breathed in the scent of the earth that wafted off of his clothing. "You do know that I love you," she whispered in to his shirt.

"I do."

It was then that Azalea tripped over something that had fallen from the wagon and she looked down at the small box that sat at her feet. She reached out and traced her fingers along the wood. As she did so, Azalea counted down the days that she had begun to mark with shallow gashes carved upon the corner.

Sixty marks...

Two months had passed now since the concern had first risen in the back of her mind.

It felt as if a claw gripped the center of her chest and she found herself panicked. Her breath quickened and perspiration glistened on her olive skin. She would have to speak with Brene the moment that they arrived in Camelot.

"Are you well?" Tristan asked in concern.

"I am," the woman replied calmly.

If Azalea was correct both of their lives were about to change in a very big way.

* * *

**Some serious smut in this chapter…but hey, they're two consenting adults :P It happens haha I'm sorry that this chapter isn't as long as the others have been. I just feel like I could force myself to write more to fill it in but it would just be junk. So I keep it to what needs to be said. There is something important to the story in every one of my chapters. Thank you to all my incredible reviewers…I don't think a girl could ask for any better. I love you! No seriously…I do.**


	4. Chapter 4

_I am so sorry that this took me forever to write. It happens from time to time. Plus I am preparing to get back surgery and that's been taking up a lot of my time. I hope you all bare with me!_

_Love,_

_BWR_

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Tristan was quite perplexed and slightly concerned at the look that he saw on Azalea's face. However, he could tell that she was not willingly going to speak about what was on her mind, so he let it go for the time being. She hooked her arm through his and they made their way over towards the campfire that now violently roared to life. Its magnificent amber flames billowing up towards the twilight sky that hung ominously over their heads. It was a beautiful night and yet Tristan had a very uncomfortable feeling that began to make its presence known within him. He couldn't quite explain it nor could he expel it from his thoughts. So he buried it and walked on.

The grounds next to the estate was a large field of lush green grass and ancient trees that sporadically broke apart the landscape every thirty feet or so. Looking about him, Tristan knew that Bors had done well for himself. He had taken what little that Arthur had given him and he had expanded it beyond what any of his friends had expected.

Bors stood next to the fire beneath the largest tree in the field, surrounded by his many bastard children. Tristan and Azalea walked forward to greet him. "You have made it!" bellowed the large structure of a man as he wrapped Azalea in to a tight embrace. She smiled and yet crinkled her nose slightly as the smell of ale and sweat hit asalted her sense. He released her abruptly and turned towards Tristan.

The scout stuck out his hand to halt the man and growled out a warning. "Don't you dare embrace me!"

Bors turned and smirked at the Persian, "You have been keeping my friend in good spirits I see."

Azalea gazed up at Tristan and then patted him lightly on the chest. "He keeps himself in good spirits. I merely stand about and look pretty."

"I do believe there to be more laying down than standing up between the two of you," Vanora said as she approached from the door off the veranda of the house. Azalea blushed and saw as the corner of Tristan's mouth twitched up for only a moment.

"Shh...Vanora there are children," Azalea hushed the redhead.

"Yes, but they are our children...remember this." The mother of twelve laughed. "Now come inside, supper is to be served."

"You have expanded the grounds," Tristan commented briefly to his fellow knight as they walked in to the home.

"It was my lover's idea. It gives the children more space and you're still living in that small shack are you not?"

"It is a cottage and of a comfortable size."

"It is tiny,"

"It is quaint," Azalea defended her home. Tristan looked at her fondly and squeezed her hand in his. "And it is all we need."

"yes yes, as long as you are satisfied. I guess that is all that matters." Vanora said to her friends as she waved them in to the great hall that the couple had been in only twice before.

Tristan looked about the room with a scrutinizing eye. Not much had changed since their previous visit. The room was grand. Large vaulted ceilings rose high over their heads, held up by assorted wooden beams and stone pillars. Intricate woven tapestry's from all over the land adorned the walls. Years ago after the battle of Badon Hill, Arthur and the men of the village looted the Roman estates that had been left at Hadrians Wall and kept what they believed to be of value. Most of the possessions had gone to the Kingdom in Camelot. However Arthur allowed the knights to keep what they had found most fit to their taste.

Azalea looked before her and smiled. Sitting in the middle of the floor was a large rectangular table that was very dear to her heart. Bors had paid Tristan and Azalea a large sum of money to carve it themselves from oak that they had collected from the forest. After about two years in to Arthurs rein, when the economy was in better standing, Azalea had actually begun to make quite a sum of money selling her woodwork.

She was by far the best sculpture that Tristan had ever seen. The other knights often made fun of the scout about the fact that his woman made more coin than him and yet Tristan didn't mind. He admired her skill. He would sit beside her for days and watch with pride while she worked in the shop. Her raw talent amazed him.

When Azalea was growing up as an only child in Sinope, she had spent most of her time alone in the forest. To pass the days she stole one of her father's knives and began to carve imaginary animals that she would pretend were her companions. As she matured, Azalea eventually progressed from animals in to trying to carve an image of her mother's favorite jewelry box. Christania had given it to Azalea when she had turned eight summers. At the time it was the young girls most treasured position and it was broken by mistake when her father had stumbled in drunk one evening and knocked it from where it sat on her windowsill. Azalea had cried for days. It was the only piece of her mother that remained and it was shattered. She had spent weeks carving a replica and was beyond satisfied when she had finally finished. If Azalea could not have the original, she would at least be able to look at what she had made and remember.

That box burned in a fire sixteen years later along with every other possession of her youth when the Romans forced her to flee from her home. She could not say that it was a positive memory in her mind. However, as Azalea looked beside her at Tristan she knew that everything had happened for a reason. There was nothing that she could look back on now and say the she regretted. It all was purposely made to lead her to where she stood that day, among friends and beside the man whom she loved more than anything else on the earth.

Much had been lost over the years, and yet so much had been gained.

Azalea ran her hand gently along the smooth surface of the table as she walked down to her seat next to Vanora. Tristan sat across from her and Bors sat across from his soon to be wife. The now governor of Nottingham explained to them before that he felt awkward sitting at the head of the table around friends who he believed to be his equals. It was a quality in which they had all learned from Arthur and had yet to forget.

A servant approached and pulled out her chair as Azalea sat down. She looked about her and smiled warmly. Along with the adults, they were also joined by the two oldest sons of the house and by Theresa who sat beside Lucan to the right of his mother. The younger children were eating in a different part of the house for the evening. Bors knew that too much commotion rubbed Tristan the wrong way at times and he preferred to give his guest a peaceful evening. Within a few moments, the food was served.

"It is so good to be in such company," Azalea spoke as she grabbed Vanoras hand in hers and squeezed it for a moment. "At times like these I do miss having such friends about me."

Tristan did not show it, but this statement made him feel immensely guilty. Indeed it was not in his nature to desire the company that society brought and yet he did not realize the sacrifice in which Azalea had to endure to be his partner. Never until now had he thought about what their secluded lifestyle would mean to her.

_I am a selfish fool!_ Tristan swore at himself.

It was as if Azalea could read his mind and she starred across the table at her lover. Instantly she regretted what she had said. He eyed her cautiously and spoke, calmly between bites of bread. "You should frequent the village more often if it will bring you happiness."

Azalea laughed lightly and shook her head. She knew him too well. "I prefer your company to any other. It is not as if you hold me in irons. Perhaps one day I shall start visiting our friends more often. However, it has little to do with lack of joy. On the contrary, I have never been happier."

Lucan cleared his throat and smirked at his parents. "You still act as if you are love sick children all over again. Quit that before you ruin my appetite."

Bors began to roar with laughter at the scolding look that the scout shot across the table at his adopted son. However, there was no aggression behind it. They could all tell. The head of the household turned to look at the Lucan. "Are they always like this?"

"Aye...they are worse."

Bors pointed a fork at Tristan before he stabbed a large piece of chicken that stared at him enticingly from its position on his plate. "She has tamed you my friend."

"And Vanora has not done so to you?"

The governor thought for a long while. "She has, however we were discussing your problem not mine," Bors hissed in pain when Vanora kicked him hard in the shin from across the table.

Tristan just shook his head and turned to engage in conversation with the young boys about their training in Camelot. More often than not lately, each of the Sarmatian knights had been thinking back to times of war. Back to when they were young and had spent their days either in battle or preparing for one. It was the worst time of their lives and yet some of the best.

Tristan's life was so simple now. It was quiet, peaceful and full of love...everything that he had ever wanted and the things that he never knew that he needed. However, there was a small part inside of him that yearned for one last adventure. There were times when Azalea was busy and Tristan would sit in the bar, cleaning his old weapons or practicing against the wooden opponent that she had carved for him years ago when he was still a knight.

He did not fear getting old. Tristan just felt like there was a part of his soul that was not being put to use. It was just buried and sitting stagnant within him, waiting to escape and be of service once more.

Tristan was knocked back to the present when Two spoke. "Sir Gawain has us training even harder these past few months since the trials are coming up soon. He wants us to be as prepared as possible." He was fourteen, the same age as Lucan.

"Arion is by far the most skilled at swordsmanship," Lucan said as he went in to detail about his friends talents. "He is the son of Agamon the Blacksmith."

Bors could not help but agree. "You should see the boy Tris, he has even bested Gawain a few times. I do believe he would give even you quite a challenge."

One, who had already passed the trials the previous year and was now a young knight, spoke above the others. "Yes, Arion is handy with a sword. However, not much else. Lucan here is the most multi-talented of the group. He is a master of the bow and quite skilled in almost every other weapon." One said as he starred at the younger blond in admiration and then turned to the scout. "I do believe that it is your doing Tristan. You should be proud."

"I am and it is of his own doing. He is hardheaded."

Lucan laughed but hid the immense joy that he felt at hearing Tristan say those words. Ever since the scout had taken him in to his family, Lucan had done everything in his power to bring honor to his name. The boy also thought of Dagonet often and what the healer would have wanted for his life. He lived everyday with those thoughts in his head. To hear that Tristan was proud of him was the best reward that Lucan had ever expected to receive for his hard work. Even being sworn in as a knight of the round table would not make Lucan feel as brilliant as he did right then.

The rest of the evening passed on wonderfully. The younger children were put to bed and the adults and older children sat about the fire outside. The night was warm and yet a cool breeze kept the temperature comfortable. They laughed and shared stories of the days gone by. Bors had even released the serving hands for the night. For the first time in years it was just the two families together. The way that it had always been before.

Tristan looked over at his brother in arms as he sat across the fire, surrounded by those that they loved. Vanora rested her head upon the shoulder of her man and Azalea was asleep with her head on Tristan's thigh. The two men both shared a silent look that said what neither of them would speak.

_We have done it. We have survived._

The night ended with mournful thoughts of all those good men who had not.

* * *

The next two months seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye. It was a long time and yet Azalea felt like it was not nearly long enough. They were preparing the wagons for the journey to Camelot. Once they were there, she knew that her son would be parted from her once more. Azalea dearly treasured their time together and did not wish for it to end.

Yet everything has to end and she knew it.

Tristan climbed up first and then reached out his arms to help lift Azalea up. She sat down beside him and he loved the feel of her thigh as it pressed against his own. Just her presence brought him peace. Lucan lay on some hay in back and folded his hands across his chest as he closed his eyes to sleep. His tousled blonde hair falling in to his face. Azalea looked back at the boy and admired how peaceful he looked in slumber. She imagined that he might perhaps look like one of those angels that Arthur was always talking about.

The family set off at a steady pace down the rugged dirt road. The constant rhythm of hoof beats upon the ground was lulling Azalea in to slumber. Azalea curled up on the seat and laid her head upon Tristan's knee so that he could still steer the carriage. Almost instinctively, he reached one hand down and brushed the hair back from her face.

Bors and his family had left four day prior to make the wedding preparations. The others would meet up at the castle. It was only the previous night when a carrier arrived at the cottage for Tristan. It was a note from Arthur.

_Dear Brother,_

_Must you even ask if your presence would be welcome? You know that I would have all of my knights of old within walking distance if permitted. Alas, you all must make your own way in this world. As for your request, Guinevere and I rarely have time to frequent the cottage on the shore anymore. You and your family are welcome there at any time. No invitation is necessary. I just ask that you do stop by the court and say hello on occasion. Your arrival is most welcome._

_-Arthur_

_"He shall never change," Tristan commented as he placed the letter down upon the wooden table after first reading it. _

_"I for one hope that he never does. It is rare to find men such as Arthur."_

The road was long and dangerous at some points. The trail was well worn and yet wound its way through the rolling and rocky hills of Britain. The family would stop for rest every so many hours. Lucan would give life to the fire. Tristan would hunt for food and Azalea would prepare the meal. It was a cooperative effort, a family affair.

It was a four day ride to Camelot and yet they took their time. Nothing they did was ever meant to be rushed. They were intent on enjoying every moment of their lives, even the small insignificant ones. Lucan was of a different breed. He was young and restless. He had more energy than both of his parents put together. Tristan often would observe his son and saw that same passion for adventure that he used to see in the eyes of his brother knights when they had first began their training twenty-one years ago. Lucan still had the look of innocence that they all could claim before the light was stolen away with the first life that they each took with their own hands. It was not a moment that Tristan was looking forward to.

The scout would lay down his own life to protect his family and yet he knew that there was certain circumstance that he could not stop. It was a part of the natural progression of the universe. He could not protect his son from death. It would hit them all at some time or another. However, there was a part inside of the scout that wished that he wouldn't live long enough to see it.

On the third day of their journey, rain beat down forcefully upon their heads. Black clouds loomed in the sky, casting shadows over the earth. Tristan had them take shelter beneath the grand trees of the forest to the North and yet it did little to protect them from the hours of watery onslaught. Eventually Lucan thought to unbind their sacks of clothing and use the leather tarp to cover the wagon. They made a makeshift tent and lay down beneath it.

All was silent for some time, except for the rain and Azaleas heavy breathing as she slept beside her lover. Tristan was startled for a moment when Lucan's hushed voice spoke in the night. "What is it like to take a man's life?"

Tristan turned his head and watched the boy for some time before he answered. He could not look the child in the eyes. "I wished that you would never find out."

"But I will."

"Aye you will." Tristan looked weary and older than he had in a long time. Lucan looked closely at his father and spoke with caution.

"I have heard stories about you from the other boys. They say that you are not affected by death."

"Is that what they say?" Tristan didn't seem concerned by what his son had just admitted. His face was like stone.

"How do you do it?" Lucan asked in a whisper as if deep down he was afraid to know the truth. Tristan once again took his time in answering.

"Anger. Hatred. Vengeance."

Lucan nodded his head and yet didn't speak for quite a while. "I wish to be like you someday."

Tristan reached out and grabbed the boy's arm. "Do not wish that."

"Why should I not? You are mighty and strong."

"I am broken."

Lucan was growing angry at his father. "You are a good man! I have seen who you truly are. You cannot convince me otherwise."

Tristan knew that there would be no arguing with the boy. Lucan admired him far beyond what he deserved. He did not wish Lucan to be like him...he wished for him to be better. "You asked what it is like to kill a man." Lucan nodded his head slowly. Tristan sighed and then spoke. "Death is like night. The end. Like a day without a dawn. When you first look in to a man's eyes and you watch that light fade, knowing that you are the reason for its departure, the end takes seed inside of you. With each new kill that darkness consumes you even more. Eventually it becomes more familiar than the day. You embrace it like an old friend."

Lucan could not speak for a long time. Then he looked at his father. "What made you this way?"

By this time Azalea was awake. However, she kept her eyes closed and listened. She knew that if Tristan knew that she was awake, he would not answer with the same resolved. So she sat there and kept quiet. It was very rare that anyone had the chance to catch Tristan with his guard down. It intrigued her. Nothing that he could say would frighten away the admiration that the child held for his father. No matter how hard Tristan tried to persuade Lucan otherwise.

"Life." Tristan said shortly. "Now get some rest, we reach Camelot in the morning.

It took no more than four hours from dawn for the family to arrive at their final destination. The horses tramped leisurely across the grassy fields. Fresh produce from farms sprouted up along their flanks. A dirt pathway led a winding way up a hillside covered in houses until it reached the base of a massive stone wall. Beyond that wall the towers of the palace sprouted up and creating an illustrious skyline. The rising sun dyed the stone iridescent colors, if only for a moment until the day arrived.

Even from where they stood the low rumble of city life reached their ears. Azalea took a deep breath and looked up at grandest city in all of Britain. It had been almost two years since she had last laid eyes upon it. At one time Azalea had believed that she would make her home here among the company of her closest friends. Even Tristan, who was discontent around crowds, had settled in to a way of life.

That was until the miscarriage.

After the death of her firstborn child, Azalea could never look at Camelot the same way again. They needed a new start, far away from the looks of pity and the whispers. She wasn't stupid. Azalea knew what everyone was saying. They claimed that Tristan was so evil that he was cursed and would never bare children. They claimed that Azalea was at fault for her too active lifestyle.

Azalea gave up a long time ago trying to decipher the will of the Gods and why they had chosen to take her child from her. She looked over at Tristan who now stood upon the ground, as he spoke to the tower guard, explaining their business in the city. She knew now more than ever that she wished to bare him a child. She could just picture a baby with his blood pumping through their veins. Azalea hated to think of a time when Tristan would no longer exist and if she could only carry a child full term, there would be a piece of the scout left to carry on.

Azalea was thirty years old and still in optimal health. It was time to stop being frightened and to accept the risk that comes with bringing a baby in to this world. Azalea loved Lucan with all of her heart. She will always consider him her first and oldest son. Yet she looked at her family and still felt incomplete.

The drawbridge of the city was lowered and the large iron gates opened up before them, welcoming them back to the one place that she swore that she would never step foot in again. Azalea reached down and gently ran a hand along her stomach.

Once again the world was changing and something inside of Azalea warned her of its coming. Yet, unlike the last time, it did not bring joy...

...only fear.

* * *

_**Once again I apologize for the delay in this chapter. It took me forever to write, i have no idea why. I've already started chapter five so you don't have to worry that the next one will take as long. I'm just used to already having my entire story finished before i post. That way I can take my time and write it the way I want it. However, I hate making you guys wait since you've been so wonderful. What are your thoughts so far? I know not much has happened yet, but the beginnings of stories are always meant to lead up to something big and it definitely is...I promise!**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

The metal gates opened wide and Tristan waved Azalea forward across the wooden bridge, then followed in behind. His boots thumped loudly off of the cobblestone street that wound its way through the village. It was a beautiful morning and most of the townsfolk had already begun to set up shop along the street, opening up doors and letting the fresh breeze clear the air.

Tristan quietly observed his surroundings. So much had changed since they were last in Camelot. Even though Tristan had played a major role in building the foundation of the city it had never felt like his home. It reminded him too much of the idea of Rome. Too many buildings, too much structure, too many rules. After years of servitude, all he craved was freedom.

Nature gave him that freedom.

Tristan placed his hand on Azalea's lower back and led her through the streets. He watched her closely as she crossed her hands protectively over her stomach and he felt her body tremble beneath his touch. He hated this town.

In prior days, Tristan had been willing to stay in Camelot if it had been Azalea's wish. However, after the loss of the baby, Tristan saw only the look of despair in her eyes and he wished nothing more than to get Azalea as far away from those painful memories as possible. Only time could mend those wounds and now that they had returned, Tristan wasn't sure what to expect.

The couple stopped briefly as they passed the falconers post. Tristan stepped in to greet the young man who had once been his apprentice and to check up on the boy's progress.

The scout stepped in to a small barn of sorts called a Mews or 'raptors chamber'. It was a roughly built wooden structure, with no windows and light shown in only through small cracks that weather had worn in to the siding over the years. Around the open space were more than thirty short-winged and broad-winged hawks that Arthur had gathered from all over the world. They were each tethered by a leather band to their own round perch. The pungent and yet familiar odder of bird droppings assaulted Tristan's nose almost instantly.

Standing in the farthest right corner was a blonde haired man of no more than twenty summers. There was hay in his hair and his face was smeared with dirt. On his arm he wore a sturdy leather gauntlet that came up to his elbow and protected him from the sharp claws of the hawks. It used to belong to Tristan. When the boy turned around he nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise.

"Master!"

"You forget Fenio that I am no longer your master." Tristan replied calmly as he walked about the room.

The young boy laughed and tethered the hawk that he was holding back on to his perch. "And you must not forget that you have taught me everything I know. You shall always be considered my master and I your apprentice." Fenio picked up a small silver tool and began to tighten a loose handle on a cage. "Excuse me Sir, but I did not know you to be in the Kingdom. It has been quite a long time."

"Aye, almost two years. It looks as if you have done well in my sted. Come, update me on your progress."

They talked business for many minutes before Tristan became aware of the time and remembered that there were those who were waiting patiently for him. He quickly said goodbye and made to leave. There were so many memories assaulting his mind that it was hard for him to sort through them all. He thought of all the places he had been and the things that he had done. Then Tristan thought about where he was now and all that he still had left to do.

Life was a peculiar journey...that was for sure and all that awaited any of them at the end, was death.

When Tristan walked out the door he saw Azalea sitting upon an empty wooden barrel. Her back was to him and she was looking out over the town, lost in her own thoughts. There was a sadness in her eyes that he had not seen in a very long time. Quickly Tristan approached her, purposely making enough noise not to startle her. When the knight reached her side, he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"Are you well?" Tristan whispered in to her ear.

Azalea leaned back in to his embrace and then turned her head to kiss him softly on the cheek. "I am well Shaheen, do not worry. It would be a lie to say that I have fond memories of this place. Yet, I am in no great turmoil. I am simply adapting, that is all."

The look on Tristan's face showed that he understood and he helped her in to a standing position. They were silent for most of the walk as their young guide led them to what the couple soon remembered as the sleeping champers. When this realization dawned on them, they stopped quickly and exchanged curious glances. However, the maid continued on along the corridor. There she stood waiting patiently at a pair of wooden doors, tapping her foot to show that she secretly wished for them to hurry things along.

"This will be your temporary quarters until the King agrees that the cottage is in fit condition to hold guests. It will only be for a night or so."

"That is fine," Azalea said and yet she eyed Tristan carefully. Not quite sure how he would take this new development. He didn't say anything at all and took their belongings in to the room.

"Will that be all?" Asked the woman as she began to nervously switch her weight from one foot to the other. The silent scout made her quite uneasy.

Azalea smiled warmly at the young girl. "Yes, thank you. That is all."

Azalea watched the maid retreat and then turned her attention back towards the bedroom. Stepping inside, she closed the door slowly behind her and then leaned her back against the wood. Azalea watched her lover pace about the room, quietly taking in his surroundings.

There was a large four post bed that rested mid center in the room. Burgundy velvet curtains draped down to the floor in elegant waves. A magnificent stone fireplace was located on the opposite wall to warm the inhabitants of the room during the cold winter nights. On the wall to the right was a very large window that gave a clear view of the sea from behind its glass shield. Sitting in front of the window was two chairs and a small wooden table. Paintings and tapestry's hung about the walls in decoration. It was beautiful. As was every room in the castle of Camelot.

"Do not be angry with Arthur. I am sure he will make good on his promise soon enough. He has never before broken his word without good reason." Azalea said to Tristan. The scout stopped in mid motion as he was removing his sword from about his waist.

"I am not angry."

Azalea put her hands on her hips, "Tristan do not..."

She was interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

"Enter" Tristan called.

A large statured young man dressed in burgundy sashes stepped through the door. The couple instantly recognized him as Landan, Arthur's page. "His Royal Highness requests your immediate presence."

Tristan nodded and Azalea followed him out in to the corridor once more.

It was in that moment that a loud call erupted through the hall. Azalea and Tristan looked up quickly at the familiar voice. It was one that they had not heard in more than a year. "You have made it!" Gawain roared.

He gripped Azalea so tightly that she could hardly breathe. She laughed and spoke in to his chest. "You are crushing my lungs."

"You cannot imagine how wonderful it is to see your beautiful face!" Gawain still refused to release Azalea. Her face remained buried in to his tunic. Tristan just stood with his arms folded across his chest and a smirk on his face.

The head of the royal guard released her only slightly so that she could breath. Azalea laughed and shook her head. "Dear Gawain, Is something the matter? I am happy to see you also; I just have never received such a warm welcome before."

Gawain pulled back completely and placed his hands on both of her shoulders. His face was very serious when he spoke. Both Tristan and Azalea feared that something was the matter and prepared for the worst. It took a moment for the man to speak. "Halener is with child."

Tristan relaxed his stance and his face remained impassive. But there was amusement in his eyes. Azalea practically burst with joy at the news. "And she did not think send word to inform me? How long have you known?"

"Only a fortnight," Gawain replied.

"Ah then I shall forgive you."

"That is kind of you." Gawain said with a smile and then he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "Galahad and Brene have some news to tell you as well."

"Do not tell me that she is pregnant also!"

"No, I do not believe she is. However, their news is their business to share. You must ask them yourself." Gawain turned to the page that was still standing there waiting to escort the couple to the king. "I will take them from here Landan, thank you."

The boy nodded and walked off, leaving the old friends to reunite. It took no more than five minutes for the group to arrive at the main hall of the castle. Azalea looked on in amazement at all of the people who stood about in fanciful outfits and watched them as they entered. Suddenly she began to feel highly underdressed. Tristan could feel her tension and he reached over to squeeze her hand tightly. Azalea relaxed the instant that she looked ahead and saw Arthur sitting upon his throne.

Without thinking, Azalea ran forward and threw her arms around the Kings neck, completely oblivious to the startled looks that she was receiving from the newer guards and members of the royal court. All were tense and ready for action. They did not know who Azalea or Tristan were by appearance alone and were worried for their Lords safety. However, when Arthur laughed and returned her embrace, they eased their stance. "Arthur, we have missed you." Azalea spoke for both her and Tristan only in that moment, knowing that Tristan was not one for sentimentality. However, it was then that she began to hear the whispers of the members of the court and her face flushed red. "Oh...excuse me." she quickly pulled away and took a step back, realizing her mistake. "I mean your highness. You must forgive me, I often lose track of my mind."

Arthur excused the mistake with a wave of his hand. He actually felt warmed by the woman's casual embrace. It reminded him of older days when his position wasn't quite so regal and his brothers could greet him as a friend and not as their superior. Tristan took that moment to step forward and wrap his arm around Azalea's waist. The scout nodded his head towards his former commander. Arthur stood up and stretched out his hand as he grabbed the scouts shoulder fondly. "Brother, it is good to see you in such health."

"It is good to see you as well," Tristan said in response and for once he truly meant it. For the first time in a very long time, he truly did miss his fellow knights. Seeing the men and Arthur used to bring back only painful memories of war and imprisonment. Now that time has passed, Tristan grew to accept that not all of those memories were bad.

It was then that Azalea's attention was caught by the soft clearing of a throat. She turned and her brown eyes met with the beautiful hazel eyes of the queen. Azalea refused to curtsy and only nodded her head to the woman before her. "Your highness, you look well."

"As do you," Guinevere replied in equal civility.

Even though the meeting was tame, all those who knew the two women felt how tense the air was between them. Even the passing of time had done little to breach the barrier that prevented them from ever being friends. They still disliked each other as much as ever. The cautious warning inside of Azalea had not receded and looking at the queen now, it only grew stronger.

Arthur quickly spoke, addressing Tristan. "I must apologize that your current lodgings are not what we had originally agreed upon. There were some repairs that need to be done before it is suitable to inhabit. You have my word that it will take no more than a day to finish."

"All is well," Tristan said to ease Arthur's guilt.

"Tonight shall be a feast! You and Azalea will sit beside me so that I may hear all that you have been up to." Azalea's smile returned to her face once more.

"And we wish to hear how you have been as well. Lucan is our only source of news from the court and I do believe his report to be quite biased due to his admiration of you."

The queen chose that moment to step forward and be a more predominate figure in the conversation. She placed her hand on Arthurs arm, "My love, we have business to tend to." Then she turned to Tristan and Azalea. "That is all for now, we will converse when the time is proper. You will be notified when the cottage has been made ready. Good day."

Guinevere pulled on Arthurs arms and the trumpeters announced their parting. Arthur looked over his shoulder and gave his friends an apologetic stare. Then he turned around to follow his wife.

Azalea dismissed the servant who was willing to show them back to their quarters and the couple took their own time walking about the kingdom. They observed all the new changes that had been made and all of the things that had not changed at all. Azalea had hoped to run in to Galahad and Brene. However, there was no such luck. Within the hour Tristan became highly engrossed in the training grounds, watching Lucan and the young knights during their sparing sessions. It was then that Azalea chose to take her leave. The sun was beginning to set over the horizon and she wished to head back to the room and change in to something more fit for court. Azalea had only one formal gown and knew that she would have to find Halener soon and purchase a dress that was more suitable for such occasions. Especially the wedding that was coming up.

Azalea descended the steps to the lower floor of the sleeping chambers and began to walk down the corridor when she heard voices from around the corner up ahead. Instantly she recognized them as Guinevere and Gawain. The head of the royal guard seemed to have just been given orders that he was not too happy to hear.

Azalea stopped walking and listened closely as the queen spoke. "I do not trust her. You must have her watched at all times."

"But Milady, I know Azalea...she loves Arthur as family, she would never..." Gawain quickly came to defense of his friend and this warmed her heart to hear. He respected and admired the queen. He had no conflict with her. Yet he knew Azalea and knew her loyalty to the kingdom.

"I am your Queen, am I not?"

"Yes, Milady."

"Then you will do as I say Gawain!" There was no discussion in her voice. The decision was final and he knew it.

It was in that moment that Azalea realized that they were about to round the corner nearest to her. She silently ran back down to the end of the hallway nearest to the stairs, lifted up a silver tin and dropped it upon the floor. She did this purposely so that the loud noise would alert the pair of her presence. But by this time she was too far down the corridor to have been suspected of hearing their conversation.

Azalea knelt down to pick up the remnants of the jar. She relaxed her nerves and acted as if nothing was amiss. When she looked up and spotted Gawain, a huge grin appeared on her face. However, Gawain and Guinevere looked slightly startled for a moment. The queen's eyes narrowed in distaste.

The Persian ignored her presence altogether and instead she smiled up at the man beside her. "My friend! It is good to see you. I was just on my way to find your woman. I wished to check in upon Halener and see how she is fairing. However, my clumsiness has gotten the better of me again. Tristan is constantly scolding me for it."

"It will be our secret then. We were just on our way to the great hall. Will you not join us?" He urged as he reached out his hand to help her stand.

"I will join you later. I would be an awful friend if I did not see my dearest of all friends upon my arrival."

Azalea did not miss the way that the queen looked over at the Gawain, reminding him of his orders. The knight saw the stare as well and his voice was hesitant when he spoke next. "Then I will accompany you."

"I take my leave," said Guinevere and she turned to walk up the stairs without another word of goodbye.

Azalea and the tawny haired knight walked in silence towards his room for a few moments until finally Gawain grabbed her arm gently and pulled her to a stop. She turned and stared up at him questioningly. The accusation in his eyes was very apparent. "You heard us."

"Yes, I did. Do you think Guinevere suspects such?"

"I do not." This relieved her and yet she saw the apologetic way that he continued to watch her. "I am sorry Azalea! I must do as she says."

Azalea smiled at him. "Do not worry my friend. It is your duty. I understand."

Gawain nodded and was silent for a moment. When he spoke again his voice flew out as if he hardly took a breath. "I know your great hatred for the queen...do tell me that you would never do anything foolish and ease my fear."

Azalea laughed lightly. She reached up and placed a hand on each of his cheeks like she would a child. She shook his head side to side when she spoke. "Dear Gawain, I do not like her. However, I love our King as a brother and I would never do anything so foolish. Besides it is only her attitude that disturbs me and yet she has done nothing to deserve any kind of action to be taken. You have nothing to fear my friend. I swear it."

The pair continued walking then. Gawain took a deep breath and laughed. "That is a great relief."

"Aye, I can imagine that it would be."

"I am sorry that I must keep watch on you. It feels ridiculous. But an order is an order."

"Bring Halaner along and it will be like old times when we were always around to drive each other insane. I do not know how Tristan will enjoy the constant company. But he will get over it as he always does."

At the mention of Tristan, Gawain's posture stiffened. "Surely you will not tell him will you?"

Azalea thought about it for a moment. "I refuse to lie to him."

Gawain knew the scout better than most and he could only imagine the blind rage that he would be in if he knew that his woman was under covalence. Whether by order of the Queen or not. It was clear to all who knew Tristan that he cared for nothing more than he cared for Azalea. "Choosing not to mention something, is not the same as lying. Can you not withhold such useless information from his knowledge?"

She thought about it for a moment and at the desperate look on the knight's face, she knew that she could not deny him this request. Besides she saw no harm in the queen's distrust of her. It was mutual. "Aye brother, for you I will. Now let's get this woman of yours. I must scold her for allowing me to be the last to know that your child is coming."

* * *

_**I know that these chapters are coming along slow. But at least they are coming. Things start to pick up in the story from here on out! I promise I will finish this story, even if it takes me a little while. I am just getting over being sick and then in four days I have back surgery. At least while I'm laid up for 4-6 weeks I'll have time to do some writing! Well I hope you all didn't give up on me. Let me know what you think. I didn't have much time to proof read this so I apologize for the mistakes!**_

_**Love you all,**_

_**BWR**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Tristan stood alone, leaning against the sturdy wooden fence that surrounded the training yard as he rubbed a knot from the muscle in the right side of his neck. Far in the background across the circular dirt rink stood a massive stone building. It was the new barracks for the young recruits. It held the rooms where Lucan and his brother's slept while they were away from home. From what Tristan remembered of the layout, it was setup in much the same way as the Barracks back at Hadrian's Wall where the Sarmatian Knights had once resided.

Fighting in the rink in front of him was a boy about the same age as Lucan. Except he was darker skinned, shorter and much broader in build from Tristan's son. His opponent was quite a bit taller and almost equally as broad. His head was shaved and there was the shadow of a blue tattoo across his forearm. Tristan recognized it instantly as one of the British tribal tattoos.

Once things had settled after the war, with the guidance of Guinevere and Merlin, a large portion of the woads had begun to mix with those who had previously allied with Rome. Yet they kept many of their customary traditions. Arthur gracefully accepted this wide mix of culture and beliefs. However, he still did his best to convert as many of his people to Christianity as would listen. It was just in his nature to help all those he cared for to find salvation in whatever way that he believed was best.

Lucan was nowhere in sight but Tristan still found great interest in watching the others fight. As if in slow motion, he scrutinized the way their bodies moved to counteract the other's blow. He saw each mistake and each decision that could lead to a victory or a defeat. The shortest of the boys was struggling and growing increasingly more frustrated with himself as time went on. This frustration was only guiding him to even greater error. The boy was about to give up when Tristan stepped in to the rink.

Both boys recognized the knight of old almost immediately and stopped sparring to watch him approach. Even though they spent much of their time training with Gawain, they were still in awe of every one of the Sarmatian Knights of legend. They could not help themselves. However, Tristan was the one who made them the most uneasy.

The scout approached silently and then walked in a circle around the boys. Finally he stopped and spoke. "Raise your weapons and continue."

The boys did as he commanded after only a small hint of hesitation. The smaller boy's weapon of choice was a long sword. By the way that his wrist bent when he wielded it, showed Tristan that it was much too heavy. It would indeed build up the strength of his forearm in practice and yet it would be deadly on the battle field.

_How could Gawain overlook this_.

It was then that Tristan reminded himself that his brother had not just one boy to watch, but many and small details such as this could easily be missed. The sword, however, was not the kid's only flaw. He was all action, much like Bors, except without the brute strength. He paid little attention to observing the actions of his opponent.

"Stop," Tristan commanded and the boys did as they were told. The scout turned to the youngest. "Wait here a moment."

Tristan walked over and entered the barracks. If he remembered correctly two doors down on the right from the main entrance was the weapons room. He walked inside and looked around. Finally he found what he was looking for and returned to the boys. Tristan casually tossed a new sword to the boy who caught it skillfully by the hilt. "Use this. The sword you carry now is ill equipped for you."

"But Sir, this was my father's sword," replied the boy sadly. "He died fighting the Saxons."

"And you may keep it. However, a sword is unique to each man and must mold to his strengths alone. You have strengths that your father did not and because of that you must carry a weapon suited to you. Every great warrior knows this. I am sure that if your father was here, he would have wanted that for you."

Tristan was never a man for many words and yet he could still be surprised at his own rare sentimentality. He smirked, knowing that this was Lucan's doing. It was amazing what the love of a child could do to alter you.

The boy silently nodded his head and twisted the sword around in his hand. He swung it with ease and watched it swiftly slice through the air. He turned and looked at Tristan with a grin. "I understand you now Sir Tristan."

"What is your name boy?"

"Juden, son of Rafiel."

"I knew your father. A good man...a good fighter." The boys face seemed to brighten when he heard the scouts recollection of his father. Yet suddenly the boy looked defeated.

"I fear that I shall never match his skill." The boy admitted. Tristan looked the child in the eyes until Juden grew uncomfortable and looked away.

"Fear is weakness." Juden didn't respond he only nodded his head. "Now begin again."

The two young men once again lifted up their swords. They slowly began to circle each other, like two men dancing to the rhythm of the adrenaline pumping through their veins. It was just as Tristan had expected. Juden grew impatient and struck first. The large woad boy quickly blocked his attack and counteracted it with one of his own. The force of the blow knocked Juden backwards. The smaller of the boys went to strike again, but Tristan knocked his sword down with his own. "Stop."

The boys quickly obeyed and looked at the knight in surprise. "What is it?" asked the taller of the two.

"You do not think!" Tristan said to Juden. He was growing irritated at the boys indifference to the deadly mistakes that he was making that could so carelessly lead to the end of his life.

"I do so think!" Juden was obviously insulted by this comment. Tristan just raised an eyebrow at him curiously and didn't speak. Finally the boy calmed down. "What do you mean?"

"Begin again." After more than an hour of stopping and repeating the same scenario the boys were becoming exasperated at his teaching techniques but they dared not disobey him. They raised their swords and once more Juden began to move to strike but Tristan swatted down their swords again quickly. "No."

"What now?" growled the boy.

"Again," Tristan waved for them to try again. The larger boy had a smirk on his face, which only seemed to rouse Juden's anger even more.

This time Juden struck out instantly and he found his blow blocked at the same moment the woad boy swept his feet out from under him and he ended up on his back upon the dirt, a knife at his throat. Juden quickly stood up and dusted himself off. He turned to Tristan. "Is this all just to humiliate me old man?"

A smirk played at the corner of Tristan's lips. "Again."

"I will not, this is a waste of time." Before anyone knew what was happening, Tristan swung his sword at the boy and quickly dislodged the blade from his hand with his own. It landed a few feet from where they stood.

"Pick it up and let's continue," Juden hesitated for a moment and then out of fear of the unstable Sarmatian, did as he instructed.

The boy raised the sword in the air and for once he didn't move. However, out of anger he refused to do as Tristan wished. So Juden just stood there stubbornly and waited. He watched the larger boy for any sign of attack, but he made none of his own. Finally the older boy struck out and Juden blocked it easily.

"Good." Tristan said in what felt like encouragement.

Juden stopped and frowned at the scout. "What? I fight and you mock me, I do nothing and you compliment me. I think you are out of your mind."

"You believe that you did nothing?"

"I just stood there!"

"You thought before you acted and because of that you were better able to calculate your opponent's moves."

"I do not understand," Juden said in irritation and yet the fire in his temper was beginning to quench itself.

Tristan lifted up his sword and stood in front of the boy. Preparing to duel. "Go on, prepare yourself."

Juden hesitated for quite a while before he lifted up his sword to beginning stance. "I don't know if this is wise."

"Watch me and watch your surroundings at all times. Don't think with your emotions. Think with your mind. Watch my footsteps. Watch the muscles of my arms. Their movements will give you a sign of what is to come." Tristan could tell by the shaking of Juden's hands that he was allowing nerves to take hold. "Focus boy."

Juden took a deep breath and did as he was ordered. He pushed back all of the emotions that he was currently feeling and focused his eyes on his surroundings. He watched Tristan more carefully than he had watched anything before. Juden could see the small twitch in the scouts right tunic sleeve and was shocked that within an instant his sword was up and blocking a deadly blow from Tristan's sword.

Both boys stood there in shock for a moment and yet none more so than Juden himself. His eyes were wide and his hand rested motionless at his side. "How did I do that?"

"You took the time to think. It is a very vital ally in battle. It will be especially useful to one such as you who always appears to have the lower hand. Do not forget it." Tristan said as he sheathed his sword and began to walk away from the boys.

"I will not forget. Thank you Sir Tristan."

Tristan did not turn around he just continued walking towards the end of the ring where he could now see two of his former companions standing about shaking their heads at him. Galahad and Bors were observing him with bemused expressions on their faces. "You would make some trainer Tristan. You should have taken Gawain's job." Galahad laughed as he patted Tristan on the back.

"I am not in the mood for the two of you," Tristan growled.

"Well it is good to see you too brother," Galahad announced as if Tristan had not said anything at all.

"Come, we are heading to the pub. Join us!" Bors bellowed and pushed the scout towards the direction where the ale was most likely to be found.

Tristan's head was pounding and for once he did not object.

* * *

Azalea walked in silence down the corridor beside Gawain. She was going over all of that day's events in great detail, trying to figure out what it was that triggered such a reaction from the queen. They had always disliked each other, why must it be now that Guinevere chose to have Azalea followed?

_It was nothing that I have done, of that I am sure. Which means it must be to keep all eyes on me...and away from her. She is up to something, I just know it. _

"Did you say something?" Gawain asked, looking down at the peculiar Persian woman who walked beside him.

It had been six years since she first showed up before them and stole the heart of their most elusive scout. To most of their surprise, a strong friendship had grown between them all. However, like Tristan, there still remained this enigma about Azalea that kept everyone at a distance.

It was as if you could know all there is to know about Azalea and yet never truly know her.

"I do not think so," She said with a laugh.

"I must be losing my mind," Gawain laughed as well. "I have been under much stress lately."

"Relax my friend. Life is short."

"That is the truth."

"Besides, you will be a father soon. You must have your wits about you."

The two friends finally reached Gawain's suite. The Sarmatian knights were held in high honor in the kingdom and their rooms were much larger than all others but that of the King and Queen. He knocked once and peered inside to look for Halener. "Are you decent, my love? We have a guest."

"I am," came Halener's voice from behind the door. Azalea could hardly stand it. She nearly pushed past Gawain and entered the room. Halaner looked up in surprise. Azalea stopped a few feet from where the blonde seamstress stood by an armoire.

"My dear lovely friend, I would have come in even if you had forbid it. How I've missed you."

Halener squealed in joy and ran to her friend. They both wrapped their arms around each other in an embrace.

Gawain took a seat in a chair by the window and shook his head. "Women are peculiar creatures."

"And men are not? Have you not met he whom I love most of all?" Azalea asked. "Tristan is by far the most confusing of men and yet you sit there and dare to speak ill of the fairer sex."

"Aye perhaps you are right," Gawain said.

Azalea sat down upon the edge of the bed and stared up at her beautiful friend. "So what is this I hear of a new babe on its way? And I am the last to know...I will not have it, I tell you!"

Halaner turned her head and glared menacingly at Gawain, her voice was deadly when she spoke. "You told her without my presence!"

He was now in the corner of the room changing his work attire in to more formal wear for the feast that night. When Gawain heard the tone of her voice, he stopped tying the gold sash around his waist and swallowed hard.

Azalea could not help feeling sorry for the man. She knew he was struggling with the appropriate words to say to appease the woman he loved. Azalea wondered how often she put Tristan in such a circumstance as the one his brother was now in.

The Persian reached up and placed her hand gently on Halaner's arm. "Aw do not hold it against the poor man. He was only trying to help you."

Halener shook off her friend's hand. "Now do not try and defend him." Then she turned back towards her man. "Pray tell me dear, in what area do you believe that I require aid? Do you not think me capable of birthing my own child?"

Gawain quickly crossed the room and took her hands in his. He could feel them trembling beneath his touch. Her eyes were brimming with tears. The Sarmatian had heard much about the constant mood swings of a pregnant woman. Yet he still found himself ill prepared. "Of course I believe you capable, my love. I just know how sensitive you are right now and I thought it would be helpful to have a friend near who knows what you are feeling."

_He sure did it now_...Azalea thought to herself.

"Sensitive?" Halaner questioned. "You dare call me sensitive at such a time? Look at me!" She waved her hands around her stomach, indicating her massive size. "This is your fault as well. Do not blame all of this entirely on my unstable moods. If it weren't for you, I would not even be in such a state right now."

"Yes, I know. I am sorry."

Tears now glistened upon the pale cheeks of the seamstress. "I just wish that you would be more understanding."

Gawain reached up and brushed the teardrops from her cheeks. Then he held her face in his hands. He leaned his forehead against her own. "I shall try."

When he released her, Halaner smiled and cleared her throat. Then she laughed loudly. "Perhaps you are right. Maybe I am a bit sensitive."

Azalea took this time stand to her feet. She placed her arm around Halaner's shoulders. "Yes, and you are allowed to be. We will not hold it against you."

"I do not deserve either of you," Halaner said.

Suddenly there was a loud pounding on the door and before anyone could answer, Galahad burst through. Brene was close behind, but lingered in the doorway to make sure that it was proper to enter. It was the first time that Azalea had seen the couple in many years. She took in their appearance with much scrutiny.

They had not aged as much as the rest of them. However, they were a few years younger. Galahad had gained some weight and yet was in great shape. He was still an active knight and did his best to stay well conditioned so that he could hold his own with the younger men. His beard was short and his hair long. He was dressed in a bright green tunic with silver sashes. Beside him stood Brene who looked quite radiant in a matching forest green gown. Small lines that appeared at the corner of her eyes when she smiled at her friends, was the only sign of her age that Azalea could see.

Brene walked in and smacked Galahad on the back of the head. "I told you to knock." Then she walked over and wrapped Azalea in a tight embrace. The moment she did so, she pulled back quickly. Her eyes wide and a broad smile on her face. "So you and Tristan have changed your minds, I see."

Galahad looked confused, "What do you mean woman?"

"On having a child."

Suddenly the room was silent and everyone stared at Azalea. She looked away and took a deep breath. "It was not planned and I hadn't even suspected such until recently. I was waiting to speak with you to confirm it."

Brene reached down and prodded her fingers about on the woman's stomach. "Aye, you are indeed with child."

"This is wonderful!" Gawain announced. "It is much like Tristan to keep such good news to himself."

Azalea looked down at the floor and began to play with the hem of her skirt. Her voice came out as almost a whisper. "He does not know."

"What was that?" Galahad asked in surprise.

"Tristan does not know that I am pregnant and I would appreciate it if none of you would tell him." She began pacing about the room. Her nerves were worse than they had been since she first arrive.

It was true.

She was pregnant. Brene had just confirmed what she had known for months. It was not that she was sad at the news. She wanted a child of Tristans more than anything else in the world. She was just terrified of what she might have to give up to bring that child in to this world.

"You must tell him!" Brene scolded, her eyes burned with concern for her friend.

"I will tell him in time." Then Azalea looked around the room. "And if any of you tell him before me, I swear that I will cut out your tongue while you sleep."

"We will not. You have our word," Galahad said. Then his eyes turned very serious. "But you must tell him soon. You need care. Especially after last..."

"Yes, I know what happened last time Galahad. I do not need reminding. Just being here is reminder enough."

"I am sorry. We are just concerned."

"Aye, I know. I also know what proper care must be taken and I will do all that is required. I just wish to make sure that the baby is healthy and the pregnancy is going well before I let him know."

"And what if it does not? You will just take care of it yourself and never tell him?" Brene asked.

"Perhaps. Why must he know what would do nothing but bring him pain?"

Gawain chose that moment to step forward. "I do not think that it would be wise. I would wish to know if it were me, even if the baby were lost."

Azalea grew sad and looked up at the soon to be father. She wished for better fortune for her friend's first pregnancy than what fate had given her. "Yes, you are right."

"So you will tell him?" Halaner asked as she wrapped her arms around Azaleas waist.

"In time." Everyone looked at her cautiously and then Halaner decided to change the subject.

"Surely you are not wearing that to the feast tonight?" Halaner eyed the woman's wardrobe with distaste.

"I am not, but I sadly do not have much better. There are not many grand feasts in Nottingham and elegant gowns are of no use on a farm."

"Well let's make our way down to the shop. We will remedy this situation. I am sure I have something lying about that would be perfect. What of Tristan? Does he need attire as well?"

"I believe so," Azalea said hesitantly. She knew her best friend and could see that she was getting far too excited over her new 'clients'. "However, I do believe him to be well enough for now. Perhaps we should leave him be till another time."

It was as if Halener didn't hear a word she said. "Nonsense," She dismissed the idea almost instantly. She turned to look at Gawain. "Find Tristan and send him to me immediately."

"Love, I don't think..."

"Shh," Halaner ran her hand softly along the side of his face and leaned in to place a kiss upon his lips as her hand slid dangerously down the outer part of his thigh. The other guests in the room eyed each other with smirks and raised eyebrows. Gawain felt strangely empty when Halaner pulled away from his body. When Gawain opened his eyes, her blue orbs were gleaming back at him. "Please."

Gawain shook his head to clear away the desire that was pounding in his abdomen and sighed. He ran a hand through his tangled blonde mane. "As you wish." Then he departed almost instantly, with only images of the woman he loved floating about in his mind.

Why hello there! I'm so sorry for being such a stranger lately. I have not forgotten about this story. I promise! I had back surgery 14 days ago and I've been writing little bits at a time while I've been recovering. I hope you all understand. It would make me the happiest woman in the world if you would let me know what you think. Thank you to all of my readers! I love you all.

BWR


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello all my lovely readers. I apologize so much for the long wait. I had writers block for a moment and had to deal with healing from back surgery. However, I now am back on track! I have almost the entire next chapter finished as well. I told you all that I would finish this story and I meant it. I always keep my promises. I love you all and can't wait to hear what you think.**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

The uncomfortable feeling that Tristan had been assaulted with for the past few months had only seemed to return with full force as he sat at a chair in the corner of the local pub. He had a half empty mug of ale in his right hand and the fire that burned in the hearth beside him warmed his skin. Outside, darkness had completely set in and the only light inside were from torches burning on the wall and small wax candles in the center of the tables. Galahad had left more than an hour ago to go in search of his woman and Bors now lay passed out beside him with his head resting on the table. The scout smirked; there was no doubt that Vanora was going to kill him especially since the feast tonight was being held in their honor. Tristan could have lectured Bors on discretion but he didn't feel like he cared enough to baby-sit.

Tristan could have left long ago to go find Azalea. However, he decided to take some time to himself. He needed to clear his mind and felt oddly at home in the shadow of the tavern. He spent a good hour just taking in his surroundings and observing people. In the same way that he used to do back at Hadrians Wall.

He wasn't sure why exactly he had been reminiscing so much lately. He really was content with his life. Things had been much harder in the years past. They had been years spent in servitude and war. However, Tristan had a purpose back then.

_What is my purpose now?_

He longed for adventure, for his life to have meaning again. He felt like he was just floating through life now. The only thing holding Tristan down was his devotion to his family. Opening up a hole in the wall that surrounded his heart and allowing a place for them was not something that he could ever regret. They were not a handicap, but a strength. There was just that small part of the wild abandon from his youth that buried itself within Tristan's character and was threatening to resurface once more.

He needed something strong to awaken his spirits. He considered asking Arthur for another assignment, just for old times' sake. Tristan new that Azalea wouldn't like the idea. However she could stay in Camelot surrounded by her friends and he wouldn't be gone for long. It would liven him up quite a bit and Tristan was soon firmly set on the idea.

It didn't take Gawain very long to find Tristan sitting in the back of the most dilapidated of the local taverns in the kingdom. It fit the scout perfectly. Fortunately Gawain had run in to a very inebriated Galahad who pointed the way before stumbling over a ditch in the dirt road and falling most ungracefully on to his face. Gawain sighed and shook his head as he looked down over the youngest Sarmatian. Even time had not healed the wounds on his mind that their time of slavery had inflicted, the memories that were equally as bad as the nightmares that woke them from their slumber. Each of the men had their ways of coping. Galahad chose to drown his in ale. Gawain lifted his brother up from the ground, made sure he was safely on his way, and then he turned around in search of Tristan once more.

"So you've found me," The scout said as his fellow knight approached. He barely looked up from where his gaze was fixed upon the candle and the flame that burned upon its wick. "Did Azalea send you?"

"Actually it is my lover who desires your presence. We must depart towards the shop where your woman is waiting as well. If you do not, I do believe Halaner will be in a foul mood this evening."

"And of what concern of it is mine?" Tristan said.

"None, but if you have any concern for my sanity you will do as I ask." Gawain knew that if he didn't return with the scout, he would never hear the end of it from the women.

"I do not have any concern for your sanity."

"Of course you don't," Gawain said with a smirk. "However, you will do it anyway."

"And of what reason am I being summoned?" The scout asked, still refusing to stand. He could be quite stubborn when he set his mind to it. Tristan knew that he was going to go; he just wished to string his brother along as payback for the inconvenience of it all.

Gawain hesitated for a moment. He knew that if he told Tristan the truth the scout would be even less likely to agree. However, he knew it'd be far worse to lie. "Apparently the women believe that you need to be more properly attired for the feast tonight."

Tristan scuffed loudly and took a swig of his ale. Then he sat it down on the table. "I desire no such frivolity." He waved his hand towards the door. "Leave me be."

"Come now Tristan, do not be complicated." It was obvious that Gawain's patience was running short.

"I said no."

Gawain ran a hand through his locks of blond hair. He leaned lazily against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. "Then what shall i tell them?"

"Whatever you wish." Tristan replied calmly, shrugging his shoulders.

"This is ridiculous! Azalea will be unhappy as well you know."

Tristan knew that he was right. He waited for another minute and then stood up. Tristan stretched out his back and looked Gawain in the eyes for the first time since the head of the guard had found him. "Fine."

It took the men no more than a minute to arrive at the tailors. Halaner's skill with a needle was frequently quite spoken of throughout the flourishing kingdom and she had grown in fame since Arthur had made the pilgrimage from Hadrians wall to Camelot. The new shop was much more grand and luxurious than her previous lodgings had been. It was two stories high made out of solid well-crafted wood. The two men entered and all about them were shelves of imported cloth and racks of thread in every color that Tristan could imagine. He looked straight ahead behind a bar where the blonde seamstress was measuring Azalea with a string.

Halaner looked up and smiled brightly. Azalea looked over and smiled as well. "So I see that you have found him."

"Finding him was not the problem. It was convincing him to follow that was the hard part."

"Yes of course," Azalea walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist and stared him in the eyes. "I'm sorry, it was not my idea."

Tristan didn't reply and just walked away from her and sat down on a stool in the corner of the room. His friends knew that this was his silent resignation. He would accept being Halaners puppet for the night. If Tristan were to be honest he would admit that if Azalea didn't look so radiant in her new gown, he probably wouldn't have agreed.

Azalea had been attired in a flowing gown of blue silk and taffeta. The neckline rested low off of her shoulders and was complimented by a large silver broach in the center where it plunged moderately low, exposing the top of her small but shapely breasts. The sleeves flared out from her tan arms and her dark hair was pulled up in an intricate array of flowers and braids.

Tristan took a deep breath and turned his gaze away to distract his mind from the growing arousal burning within him. He knew that nothing that he owned would do justice to compliment Azalea when he would enter the hall beside her. So he allowed Halaner to do what she willed with him.

In the end Tristan was arrayed in a deep blue tunic and brown breeches with a silver sash around his waist. Halaner had taken an already prepared tunic that she had stored for another customer who had been unable to make the payments. With a few quick alterations it was made to fit Tristan and flattered his dark features more than he would ever admit.

Gawain whistled when he saw the finished product. "You look like a new man, Tristan."

Tristan shook his head as he fingered the expensive fabric hanging from his body. "I look like a fool."

Halaner shook her head and put her arm around Tristans shoulders. "Nonsense."

Azalea walked up to him and looked at him apologetically. "Come. It is only one night. I solemnly promise to never put you through this again."

It was obvious that he was highly annoyed and yet he took her arm anyway. Gawain and Halaner led the way to the great hall. The two couples could hear the music clear down the street; the harp weaving lovely melodies together that floated through the air and expelled the silence. The group of friends walked up a cluster of large stone stairs at the base of massive brown doors that were open on the hinges.

Azalea looked about the large room in mild amazement when they entered. Glamorous people of all ages were adorned in their very best apparel and huddled together in conversation or dance. It did not matter how separated society was outside those stone walls, tonight they were all joined as one. They came to celebrate for a cause that some knew nothing of and yet they celebrated none the less.

Tristan could feel her arm tremble under his hand and he mistook it for nerves. He gently pulled her to the side and turned her to face him. "Are you well? We could still leave if you wish."

Azalea could read his concern easily and reached up to gently brush a strand of brown hair away from his dark eyes. The fingers trailed gently down his rough cheek. He raised an eyebrow curiously and she smiled "I am well my love. I was merely overwhelmed by the splendor of it all. I am not used to grand halls and fanciful balls such as this. I am a farmer's daughter."

Tristan grew irritated at the way that she always so easily lowered her self-worth. "You are a Persian princess by birth."

Azalea smiled sweetly, "and yet not by heart."

"You astound me woman."

Azalea wrapped her arm through his once more and looked out over the room. "Come now, since we are here let us make the most of it."

She pulled him forward and led the way to the table where many of her friends were sitting. They looked up at the new arrivals and greeted them warmly. Bors meant to scoot down to make room for the two and nearly knocked Vanora from her seat. The redhead up righted herself and began to beat him over the head with her fan.

Arthur smiled when Tristan took his seat to the kings left and Azalea sat down beside her lover. Inconveniently she was located directly across from the queen.

_This is going to be a very long night._

The group of old friends talked and laughed long in to the evening. The meal was served to the high table first, the King before all others. His friends made fun of his royal title and Arthur humbly pushed aside their jests. However, Guinevere seemed to be enjoying them immensely. This annoyed Azalea a great deal. Yet, she managed to keep quiet almost the entire time until the queen decided to speak to her directly.

"So how is life out in the deep forests of Nottingham? I do not imagine that you must socialize much among such a society." Commented the queen. Her voice was like honey. However, Azalea felt the burn in her words like arsenic. It remains undetected and swiftly deals its blow before anyone knows what is upon them.

The Persian was determined to remain civil and to give the queen no further reason to question her motives. "I visit the village quite frequently." Guinevere laughed to herself as if that was supposed to impress a queen. This angered Azalea and broke all restraint that she had towards the haughty overconfident Pict who had been nothing more than beautiful enough to capture a future king. Azalea was clearly defiant when she spoke next. "However, unlike you I do not desire a thousand prying eyes attempting to concern themselves with my business and yet know nothing of what they see. We who are content with our own lives are not so much concerned with the lives of others."

The queen's eyes blazed with a deep fire. "I am content with my life, are you saying otherwise?"

"All I am saying is that you perhaps should worry more about your own life and focus a little less on mine." Everyone in the company grew tense and Tristan rested his hand gently on her thigh. Azalea relaxed almost instantly at his touch.

Guinevere smiled slowly and looked over at Gawain with a smug, knowing look in her eyes. The head of the guard tried to pretend as if he didn't notice. He then kicked Azalea hard from beneath the table.

"Ouch!" Azalea jumped and everyone looked at her in alarm. She glared daggers at Gawain and then laughed. "It is nothing; I hit my shin on the table."

Things grew to an uncomfortable silence after this and it would have lingered long if Galahad had not begun a boisterous drinking song in which Bors soon joined in. They continued on in such a manner for the next two hours. As they tarried on further in to the night, their joyous attitudes were contagious and it was hard even for Tristan and Azalea not to have a good time.

"Come dance with me my love," Azalea pulled on the scout's hand, motioning towards the floor. She had allowed herself for once, to enjoy a decent bit of ale and it was finally assaulting her senses.

Tristan brushed back the bangs from his eyes and smirked at her. However he did not remove himself from his seat. "I do not dance."

"You did not do many things until you met me, but alas it is time for change. Although we are not wed, I am duly taken and it would feel improper for me to stand up with any man but you." Azalea made a pouting expression and tugged one last time on his hand.

Tristan shook his head, "I will not. The ale is going to your head."

"Fine, suit yourself. I shall dance alone then."

"And make a spectacle of yourself?"

"Look around you my dear. See the prying eyes. You and I have always been a spectacle. What should it matter now?" Azalea and Tristan looked around and caught the curious glances from couples nearby. No doubt they were gossiping about the kingdoms most mysterious couple. The onlookers glanced away quickly when they were caught.

Tristan shrugged his shoulders. Azalea turned away, knowing that her lover would not give in to her request and walked across the floor to where she saw Eugena, a woman she had known long ago at Hadrians wall. Suddenly she was stopped by someone.

"You have to tell him!" Brene lectured her friend as she grabbed her arm.

Azalea pulled her arm free from the young apothecary. "I have to do nothing. I will tell him in my own time."

Brene leaned forward toward Azaleas face and then scrunched up her nose as she pulled back. "Are you drunk?"

"I have had drink, yes."

"It is unwise to drink while you are with child. Azalea, you know this."

"Aye, I do. It is one night, however; and i do not feel like being lectured like i am a child."

"You are so stubborn." Brene retorted. Her anger was growing ever more apparent. She was of small stature and yet had the fiery temper of five dragons when she was tested.

"Oh, and you are not? We all have faults my friend. Do not push your demands on me. I will do what I believe is best for me, my lover and my child."

Brene shook her head, her brown locks bouncing about on her forehead. "You obviously know nothing about what is good for you. I know, it is my job."

Azalea swallowed hard and tried to still her own temper. "You do not know everything."

"I never said such a thing."

"But you are acting as if you do." Azalea turned her back. "You are my friend, Brene and i do not wish to fight with you. I know that you are right and that you mean well. I am going outside for some fresh air and to calm my temper."

Azalea did not wait for the apothecary to respond before she walked across the crowded dance floor and through the doors that led out on to the balcony.

The night was warm and Azalea could smell the salt in the air that blew up from the shore. It used to bring her comfort and now all it brought was foreboding. Azalea walked over to the stone wall far away from the line of view of the townsfolk inside and hid in the shadows that overlooked the gardens. She felt awful for the way that she had responded to Brene. She knew that her friend was only concerned for her well-being.

Azalea took a deep breath. Her lungs swelled and her chest rose gently before she released it back in to the air. She clenched her fists and let them loose, allowing the tension to flow out from her body. Azalea hated arguments and confrontation, especially with her friends. Brene had overstepped her boundaries and yet Azalea knew that she was right. She needed to tell Tristan and yet she couldn't get the courage. Azalea knew that Tristan would be thrilled and perhaps that was what scared her the most. Once more she remembered back to the moment when she had lost their first child.

_Azalea had never known such severe physical pain until that very moment. It felt as if a thousand knives were spearing her through the lower abdomen. Blood soaked through the thin cloth of her dress and stained the Tristan's breeches as he held her in his arms. She looked up in to his eyes and for the first time, she saw tears glistening upon his tan cheeks. He wiped them away before anyone had seen. Lucan stood behind his adopted father in a helpless state of shock. Finally Tristan cleared his throat and turned to his son. "Leave the room and allow me to take care of your mother."_

_"But you cannot possibly send me awa..."_

_"Do as I say boy!" Tristan scolded and Azalea squeezed his arm with what little strength she had._

_Lucan tensed in surprise to see such emotion in the eyes of the Sarmatian scout. Tristan actually looked afraid for the first time since the boy had known the knights. Lucan obediently nodded his head and then left the room without another word of protest._

_Azalea chocked back another sob and Tristan quickly looked back towards her. Her face was buried in his tunic and her forehead was wet with perspiration. He pushed her dark tendrils back and they stuck to the sides of her face. She began to shake her head from side to side and murmured something that he couldn't hear at first. Azaleas voice was barely above a whisper. He leaned forward and heard as she sobbed, "I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry..."_

_He shook her gently. His bloodshot eyes were serious. "Do not take this upon yourself,"_

_"Who else is at fault for this tragedy?" Azalea's eyes were wide and pleading with him to help take away the pain. _

_Tristan was helpless as he watched the woman that he loved be torn apart from the inside. They had faced death, war and servitude together. Tristan had always been able to save Azalea, to fix things and this time there was nothing that he could do to bring their child back to them. Something inside of Tristan broke as he watched her heart break in his arms. He steadied his voice and spoke as calmly as he knew how to at such a moment. "If you are to find fault in anyone for this tragedy, let it be with your God. If He controls all things, as you say."_

_"Tristan, I can't..."_

_"No," His eyes flashed dangerously once more. "I will not believe that you had any fault in killing our child. You are too pure, too filled with love to ever be the cause of such pain. If even involuntarily." Azaleas eyes welled up with fresh tears. She went to speak again and Tristan quieted her with a finger on her parched lips. "There is no swaying me further on this subject."_

_It was then that the door swung open and Brene quickly entered the room. Gawain entered as well with Halaner on his tail. When the blonde seamstress saw her closest friend lying crumpled up so helplessly upon the floor Halener gasped and her face went pale. She covered her mouth with her hand and just stood there silently in the doorway. Azalea didn't look up from Tristan's chest to see who it was. Gawain had never seen his brother so distressed. Tristan eyes were feral. He looked like a wild animal hovering protectively over his lover. _

_Brene stepped forward and slowly reached out towards Azalea. "We must take her to the infirmary."_

_Tristan growled out in protest and pulled Azalea tighter to his chest. Brene retracted her hand as if he'd harm her. Tristan's friends could see his hands trembling as he held his lover. Brene was desperately worried for Azalea and in no mood to delay her healing. "Tristan she will bleed out within an hour if I do not help her. So you will allow me to do my job or so help me God you will live to regret it."_

_The scout didn't say anything for a minute, and then his arms loosened only slightly. He lifted up Azalea as gently as he could and led the way to the infirmary without another word. Azalea was slowly losing consciousness and the last thing that she remembered was the feel of Tristan's teardrop fall upon her cheek and the look of despair in his eyes._

That was a look that Azalea swore that she would never allow to cross Tristan's face again. She could never put him through that kind of pain. If she told Tristan about this child and he allowed himself to hope again, that would open up the opportunity to hurt him just as she had done before.

What if I just am not capable of birthing a child? What if Tristan was right? What if it was God punishing me for some unknown crime?

All of these questions ran through Azalea's mind as she looked out over the hedges.

Either way, it wasn't worth the agony thinking about the past. It did not benefit her life in any way. Azalea knew that she had to focus now on the future and on the baby that was still alive within her. She hated her own weakness and the fact that she couldn't bare to bring herself to tell Tristan that she carried his child. Azalea couldn't take seeing the joy on his face and then to watch as it dies when her child does. However, she also knew that it was wrong to hide it from him. Tristan was the father and he deserved to know. Besides, Azalea desperately needed his love and support. Especially now when things were more confusing than they had ever been before. Tristan was who Azalea usually turned to for comfort. Without him she had never felt more alone.

Azalea was awakened from her flashback by the sound of movement behind her. She sunk back further in to the darkness to shield herself. Suddenly a cloaked figure passed by her unnoticed. At first it was too dark to see properly and it wasn't until a thin pale hand reached up and a bright emerald ring glittered in the moonlight, that Azalea realized who the figure was.

_Guinevere...what is she doing out here?_ Azalea thought to herself.

However, she made no move to approach the queen. Instead she took a step back. The exposed skin of Azaleas back felt cool as it pressed against the stone wall of the castle. She watched curiously as the queen looked about her and when Guinevere was sure that no one saw her, she headed down the stone steps towards the gardens. Azalea tried to coax herself into turning around and heading back inside to join the others. However, curiosity got the better of her. She knew that something suspicious was going on and she was determined to find out. She waited patiently until Guinevere was out of site and then silently she followed.

When Azalea reached the bottom of the steps, she was disappointed to realize that there was no sign of the queen or in what direction she could have possibly gone. Suddenly she heard the cracking of a small twig behind her and she jumped. Yet she didn't move, hoping that if she stood still enough the moonlight wouldn't give her away.

"What are you doing here?" Azalea's heart froze for a moment. She took a deep breath and then turned around slowly.


End file.
